O 


Robert  Williamson  Brokaw 


MACMILLAN'S    STANDARD    LIBRARY 


REMINISCENCES  OF  PEACE  AND  WAR 


Reminiscences 

of 

Peace  and  War 


BY 
MRS.   ROGER   A.   PRYOR 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE   MOTHER   OF  WASHINGTON  AND  HER  TIMES 


REVISED  AND  ENLARGED  EDITION 


NEW  YORK 

GROSSET  &   DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,  1904,  1905, 
BY  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY. 


Set  up  and  electrotyped.      Published  October,  1904.      Reprinted 
December,  1904;  March,  1905. 
New  edition,  with  additions,  September,  1905  ;  April,  1908. 


Norwood  Press 

J.  S.  Gushing  &  Co.  —  Berwick  &  Smith  Co. 
Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


I  DEDICATE  THIS  BOOK  TO  THE  MEMORY  OF 

JKg  Son 
WILLIAM   RICE   PRYOR,  M.D. 

WHO  GAVE  TO   SUFFERING  HUMANITY  ALL  THAT 
GOD   HAD   GIVEN   HIM 


Preface 

IT  will  be  obvious  to  the  reader  that  this  book 
affects  neither  the  "  dignity  of  history "  nor  the 
authority  of  political  instruction.  The  causes  which 
precipitated  the  conflict  between  the  sections  and 
the  momentous  events  which  attended  the  struggle 
have  been  recounted  by  writers  competent  to  the 
task.  But  descriptions  of  battles  and  civil  convul- 
sions do  not  exhibit  the  full  condition  of  the  South 
in  the  crisis.  To  complete  the  picture,  social  char- 
acteristics and  incidents  of  private  life  are  indis- 
pensable lineaments.  It  occurs  to  the  author  that 
a  plain  and  unambitious  narrative  of  her  recollec- 
tions of  Washington  society  during  the  calm  which 
preceded  the  storm,  and  of  Virginia  under  the 
afflictions  and  sorrows  of  the  fratricidal  strife,  will 
not  be  without  interest  in  the  retrospect  of  that 
memorable  era.  The  present  volume  recalls  that 
era  in  the  aspect  in  which  it  appeared  to  a  woman 
rather  than  as  it  appeared  to  a  statesman  or  a 

philosopher. 

ROGER  A.  PRYOR. 

TH 


Contents 


CHAPTER   I 

PACK 

Washington  in  the  Fifties  —  Literary  Society  during  Fillmore's 
Administration  — John  P.  Kennedy,  G.  P.  R.  James,  Mrs. 
Gales,  and  Mrs.  Seaton  —  Anna  Cora  Mowatt .  .  .  3 

CHAPTER   II 

President  Pierce's  Inauguration  —  The  New  Cabinet  —  Mr. 
Marcy  prescribes  Court  Dress  with  Varying  Results  — 
Jefferson  Davis  —  Sam  Houston  —  General  Scott — Wash- 
ington Irving  —  Adelina  Patti  and  Mrs.  Glasgow  —  Advice 
of  an  "  Old  Resident "  and  its  Unfortunate  Result  .  .  15 

CHAPTER   III 

Mr.  Buchanan  and  his  Cabinet  —  Roger  A.  Pryor's  Mission  to 
Greece  —  The  Court  of  Athens  —  The  Maid  of  Athens  — 
The  Ball  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville  —  Queen  Victoria's  Dress 
and  Dancing — The  Countess  Guiccioli — Early  House- 
keeping in  Washington  .  .  .  .  .  .  -38 

CHAPTER   IV 

The  President  at  Church  —  Levee  at  the  White  House  —  A 
Dinner  Party  at  the  White  House — Miss  Harriet  Lane  — 
Lord  and  Lady  Napier — Ball  in  their  Honor  —  Baron 
and  Madame  Stoeckle  —  Madame  Bodisco  — The  First 
Japanese  Embassy  to  the  United  States  .  •  '-"•'  .  .  4^ 


Contents 


CHAPTER  V 

PAGE 

Great  Names  on  the  Rolls  of  the  Supreme  Court,  Senate,  and 
House  of  Representatives  —  Pen  Picture  of  Stephen  A. 
Douglas  —  Incident  at  a  Ball  —  Mrs.  Douglas  —  Vanity 
Fair,  "  Caps,  Gowns,  Petticoats,  and  Petty  Exhibitions  " 

—  Decollete  Bodices  —  A  Society  Dame's  Opinion  thereon      66 

CHAPTER  VI 

Beautiful  Women  in  Washington  during  Mr.  Buchanan's  Ad- 
ministration—  Influence  of  Southern  Women  in  Society 

—  Conversational  Talent  —  Over  the  Demi-tasse  after  Din- 
ner—  Over  the  Low  Tea-table  —  Hon.  John  Y.  Mason  and 
the  Lady  who  changed  her  Mind  —  The  Evening  Party  — 
Brilliant  Talkers  and  Good  Suppers  .        .      80 

CHAPTER  VII 

The  Thirty-sixth  Congress  —  Stormy  Scenes  in  the  House  of 
Representatives  —  Abusive  and  Insulting  Language  — 
Rupture  of  Social  Relations — Visit  from  General  Cass  at 
Midnight — The  Midnight  Conference  of  Southern  Leaders 

—  Nominations  for  the  Presidency  —  The  Heated  Cam- 
paign and  the  "  Unusual  Course  "  of  Stephen  A.  Douglas  — 
Author  of  the  Memorable  Words  of  Mr.  Seward,  "  Irre- 
pressible Conflict " 93 

CHAPTER   VIII 

Memorable  Days  in  the  History  of  the  Country  —  A  Torch- 
light Procession  in  Virginia  —  An  Uninvited  Listener  to  a 
Midnight  Speech  —  Wedding  of  Miss  Parker  and  Mr. 
Bouligny  —  The  President  learns  of  the  Secession  of 
South  Carolina  —  Admiral  Porter  visits  his  South  Carolina 
Friends  —  The  Last  New  Year's  Day  in  Washington  — 
Parting  Words  in  Congress  —  The  Setting  Sun  of  a 
Happy  Day 107 


Contents  xi 

CHAPTER   IX 

FAGB 

The  Fall  of  Fort  Sumter  —  Virginia  sends  "Peace  Ambassa- 
dors "  to  Washington  —  Conventions  in  Richmond  — 
Ordinance  of  Secession  —  Rally  of  Virginians —  Enthusi- 
asm of  the  Women —  Soldiers' Outfits  .  .  .  .120 

CHAPTER  X 

March  of  the  Volunteers  —  Sail  down  James  River  —  Firing 

the  First  Gun  of  the  Regiment  —  A  Peaceful  Volley          .     134 

CHAPTER  XI 

A  Virginia  Tobacco  Plantation  —  "Health,  Peace,  and  Com- 
petence "  —  Country  Dinners  —  A  Negro  Funeral  —  Gen- 
eral McClellan  and  the  Boys'  Regiment  ....  146 

CHAPTER  XII 

Battle  of  Bull  Run  — Life  at  S mi th field  —  General  Pemberton 

—  First  Sight  of  the  Enemy —  A  Sudden  Change  of  Base 

—  Battle  of  Williamsburg  —  General  McClellan  —  General 
Joseph  E.  Johnston  —  Battle  of  Seven  Pines  —  Richmond 
realizes  the  Horrors  of  War 160 

CHAPTER  XIII 

The  Seven  Days'  Battles  around  Richmond  —  Pryor's  Brigade 
ordered  to  the  Front  —  Finding  a  Wounded  Soldier  — 
Midnight  Watch  after  the  Fight  —  Work  in  the  Hospital 

—  Ministrations  of  Virginia  Women  —  Death  of  a  Chris- 
tian Soldier  —  Colonel  Brokenborough's  Sufferings,  Forti- 
tude, and  Death —  Richmond  saved          ....     174 


xii  Contents 

CHAPTER   XLV 

PACK 

Campaign  in  Maryland  and  Northern  Virginia  —  Battles  of 
Manassas,  South  Mountain,  and  Sharpsburg  (Antietam)  — 
Winter  Quarters  in  Culpeper  —  Stories  around  the  Camp- 
fire —  Devotion  to  General  Lee  —  Incidents  related  by  his 
Aide,  Colonel  Taylor 193 

CHAPTER  XV 

The  Foraging  Party  on  the  Black  water  —  Incidents  of  Camp 
Life  —  A  Hazardous  Experiment  in  "  Blockade  Running  " 

—  Letter  from  "  Agnes  "  —  A  Colored  Man's  Views  of  his 
own  Place  in  Time  of  War  —  Fight  on  the  Blackwater  — 
Richmond  Gossip  from  "  Agnes  "     .        ,        .        .        .210 

CHAPTER  XVI 

The  Bread  Riot  at  Richmond,  described  by  "Agnes"  —  Cor- 
respondence between  the  President,  General  Lee,  and 
General  Pryor  —  A  Great  Victory  at  Chancellorsville  — 
General  Lee's  Order  upon  entering  Pennsylvania  —  Corn- 
wallis's  Orders  in  1781  —  Incident  of  Vicksburg  Cam- 
paign —  Dreadful  Defeat  at  Gettysburg  —  Surrender  of 
Vicksburg 237 

CHAPTER  XVII 

The  Winter  of  1863-1864  —  Personal  Experiences  —  Patrick 
Henry's  Granddaughter — The  Spring  and  Summer  in 
Petersburg  —  Famine,  and  Some  of  the  Women  who  en- 
dured it  —  John  tells  of  the  Averill  Raid  —  General  Orders 
No.  7  —  Domestic  Manufactures  —  General  Lee's  Dinner 

—  His  Service  of  "  Plate  " 251 

CHAPTER  XVIII 

Siege  of  Petersburg — Fight  at  Petersburg,  June  9  —  General 
Lee  arrives  at  Petersburg  —  General  Grant  shells  the  City 


Contents  xiii 

PAGE 

—  Conference  of  Pierre  SouM,  General  D.  H.  Hill,  Gen- 
eral Longstreet,  and  General  Pryor  —  Battle  at  Port  Wal- 
thall  —  A  German  Maiden  and  her  Lover  —  Substitute 
for  Medals  of  Honor  —  A  Perilous  Commission  —  Explo- 
sion of  the  Mine  under  Confederate  Fortifications     .         .     270 

CHAPTER  XIX 

August  in  the  Besieged  City  — The  Dead  Soldier  —  Return  to 
Cottage  Farm  —  General  Lee  makes  his  Headquarters  near 
Cottage  Farm  —  General  Wilcox  encamps  in  Yard  and 
Garden  —  Picket  Firing  between  Friendly  Foes  —  New 
Uses  for  Champagne  Glasses 292 

CHAPTER  XX 

Capture  of  General  Pryor  —  John  and  the  Negro  Trader  — 
Expedients  for  the  Support  of  my  Family  —  A  New  Use 
for  Ball  Dresses  —  Capture  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Pryor  .  .  306 

CHAPTER  XXI 

Christmas  at  Cottage  Farm  —  Dark  Days  of  Famine  and  Deser- 
tion in  the  Army  —  The  Psalm  of  Life  —  A  D&jeuner  ct  la 
Fourchette  —  "  Starvation  Parties"  —  The  Peace  Commis- 
sion —  The  Irish  M.P.  from  Donegal  —  General  Lee 
reveals  the  Desperate  Condition  of  his  Army  —  A  Visit 
from  General  Lee 319 

CHAPTER  XXII 

General  Pryor's  Return  from  Captivity  —  Story  of  his  Release 
from  Prison  and  Interview  with  Mr.  Lincoln  —  April  2 

—  Defeat  at  Cottage  Farm  —  Surrender  of  Petersburg  — 
Entrance  of  Federal  Troops  —  Personal  Experiences        .     338 


xiv  Contents 

CHAPTER  XXIII 

PACK 

Evacuation  of  Richmond  described  by  "Agnes"  —  Mr.  Lin- 
coln's Entrance  into  Richmond  as  related  by  Admiral 
Porter 354 

CHAPTER  XXIV 

Arrival  of  Southern  Prisoners  of  War  —  General  Sheridan 
"knows  how  to  make  the  terms  for  a  house  that  suits 
him  "  —  "  We've  caught  Jeff  Davis  "  —  General  Sheridan's 
Visit  —  Frank  Expression  of  a  Yankee  Soldier  —  General 
Warren  tells  us  of  Lee's  Surrender 361 

CHAPTER  XXV 

Incidents  and  Events  —  Loyalty  of  Domestic  Servants  —  The 
First  Army  Ration  to  Destitute  Women  —  Mrs.  Hartsuff 
—  Return  to  Cottage  Farm  —  A  Scene  of  Desolation  — 
The  Lonely  Vigil  —  Kindness  of  Negroes  and  Fidelity  of 
Old  Family  Servants 372 

CHAPTER  XXVI 

Tourists  —  The  Reverend  Brother  and  the  Young  People  — 
The  Army  of  Norway  Rats  —  The  "  Met  Bullets "  — 
General  Grant  —  The  Destruction  of  Fortifications  and 
Change  of  Base  —  In  the  Garden  at  Cottage  Farm  —  The 
Voice  in  the  Night .390 

CHAPTER  XXVII 

The  First  Decoration  Day  —  The  Old  Church  at  Blandford  — 
The  First  Memorial  Association  —  Covering  the  Soldiers' 
Graves  with  Flowers  —  "  Until  the  Day  Dawn  "  .  .  404 


Contents  xv 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

PAGE 

Virginia  in  the  Early  Days  of  Peace  —  Behavior  of  the  Freed- 
men  —  Clara's  Home-coming  and  Death  —  The  Welcome 
to  the  New  Home  —  General  Pryor  removes  to  New  York 
City 412 


Illustrations 


GENERAL    ROBERT    E.    LEE    ON    "TRAVELLER."    From  a 

photograph  by  Miley,  Lexington,  Va.     .         .        Frontispiece 

FACING   PAGE 

APPOMATTOX,  RESIDENCE  OF  THE  EPPES  FAMILY.  This 
estate  at  City  Point  on  James  River  has  been  in  the  Eppes 
family  since  it  was  first  patented,  through  a  grant  from 
Charles  First  to  Colonel  Francis  Eppes  in  1635  •  •  J36 

WESTOVER.     Owned  in  1619  by  Henry  West,  fourth   Lord 

Delaware          .........     140 

LOWER  BRANDON.  The  estate  of  "  Brandon  "  (since  divided) 
was  patented  in  1617  by  Captain  John  Martin.  In  1720 
it  was  conveyed  to  Nathaniel  Harrison,  and  has  remained 
ever  since  in  the  possession  of  the  Harrison  family  .  .144 

THE  OAKS 148 

MALVERN  HILL.  Named  after  the  hills  that  divide  the  coun- 
ties of  Hereford  and  Worcester.  Here  one  of  the  most 
sanguinary  conflicts  of  the  war  took  place.  The  old 
dwelling-house,  a  fine  specimen  of  colonial  architecture, 
is  still  standing 188 

HON.  ROGER  A.  PRYOR.    From  a  photograph,  about  1870    .    218 

SIEGE  MAP  OF  PETERSBURG.  Drawn  by  Federal  engineers, 
and  used  by  the  Union  Army  throughout  the  last  year  of 
the  war 350 


xviii  Illustrations 

FACING   PAGE 

OLD  BLANDFORD  CHURCH,  PETERSBURG,  VA.  Built  in 
1734.  From  a  photograph  taken  since  the  roof  was  re- 
newed; it  was  not  roofed  in  1867  .  .  *  .  .  408 

The  author  desires  to  acknowledge  her  indebtedness  to  Presi- 
dent Lyon  G.  Tyler  of  William  and  Mary  College  for  information 
regarding  the  colonial  homes  on  James  River.  The  pictures  of 
Appomattox,  Lower  Brandon,  and  Malvern  Hill  are  from  photo- 
graphs by  Mr.  H.  P.  Cook  of  Richmond,  Va. 


PEACE   AND   WAR 


Reminiscences  of  Peace  and 
War 

CHAPTER   I 

WASHINGTON    IN    THE    FIFTIES 

THE  Washington  that  I  knew  in  the  fifties 
was  not  the  Washington  of  Dickens,  Mrs. 
Trollope,  and  Laurence  Oliphant.  When  I 
knew  the  capital  of  our  country,  it  was  not  "  a  howl- 
ing wilderness  of  deserted  streets  running  out  into 
the  country  and  ending  nowhere,  its  population  con- 
sisting chiefly  of  politicians  and  negroes  "  ; 1  nor  were 
the  streets  overrun  with  pigs  and  infested  with  goats. 
I  never  saw  these  animals  in  the  streets  of  Wash- 
ington;  but  a  story,  told  to  illustrate  the  best  way 
of  disposing  of  the  horns  of  a  dilemma  proves  one 
goat  at  least  to  have  had  the  freedom  of  the  city. 
It  seems  that  Henry  Clay,  overdue  at  the  Senate 
Chamber,  was  once  hurrying  along  Pennsylvania 
Avenue  when  he  was  attacked  by  a  large  goat.  Mr. 
Clay  seized  his  adversary  by  the  horns.  So  far  so 
good,  but  how  about  the  next  step?  A  crowd 
of  sympathetic  bootblacks  and  newsboys  gathered 

1  "Life  of  Oliphant,"  Vol.  I.  p.  109. 
3 


4  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

around  offering  advice.  "  Let  go,  Mr.  Clay,  and 
run  like  blazes,"  shouted  one ;  and  Mr.  Clay  did 
let  go  and  did  run,  his  senatorial  coat-tails  flying 
like  pennons  behind  him. 

But  this  was  before  my  day.  I  remember  Wash- 
ington only  as  a  garden  of  delights,  over  which  the 
spring  trailed  an  early  robe  of  green,  thickly  em- 
broidered with  gems  of  amethyst  and  ruby,  pearl  and 
sapphire.  The  crocuses,  hyacinths,  tulips,  and  snow- 
drops made  haste  to  bloom  before  the  snows  had 
fairly  melted.  The  trees  donned  their  diaphanous 
veils  of  green  earlier  in  the  White  House  grounds, 
the  lawn  of  the  Smithsonian  Institution,  and  the 
gentle  slopes  around  the  Capitol,  than  anywhere  in 
less  distinguished  localities.  To  walk  through  these 
incense-laden  grounds,  to  traverse  the  avenue  of 
blossoming  crab-apples,  was  pure  pleasure.  The 
shaded  avenues  were  delightful  long  lanes,  where 
one  was  sure  to  meet  friends,  and  where  no  law  of 
etiquette  forbade  a  pause  in  the  public  street  for  a 
few  words  of  kindly  inquiry,  or  a  bit  of  gossip,  or 
the  development  of  some  plan  for  future  meetings. 
If  one's  steps  tended  to  the  neighborhood  of  yth  and 
D  streets,  nothing  was  more  probable  than  a  meet- 
ing with  one  of  Washington's  most  noted  citizens,  — 
the  superb  mastiff  of  Mr.  Gales,  the  veteran  editor 
of  the  National  Intelligencer,  as  the  dog  gravely  bore 
in  a  large  basket  the  mail  for  the  office.  No  attendant 
was  needed  by  this  fine  animal.  He  was  fully  com- 
petent to  protect  his  master's  private  and  official 
correspondence. 

He  had  been  taught  to  express  stern  disapproba- 


Washington  in  the  Fifties  5 

tion  of  Democrats ;  so  if  a  pleasant  walk  with  him 
was  desired,  it  was  expedient  for  members  of  that 
party  to  perjure  themselves  and  at  once  announce : 
"  I  am  an  c  Old- Line  Whig/  old  man,"  and  the  dog's 
tail  would  wag  a  cordial  welcome. 

Omnibuses  ran  along  Pennsylvania  Avenue,  for 
the  convenience  of  Senators,  Congressmen,  and  others 
on  their  way  to  the  Capitol,  —  but  the  saunter  along 
the  avenue  was  so  charming  that  I  always  preferred 
it  to  the  People's  Line.  There  were  few  shops.  But 
such  shops!  There  was  Gait's,  where  the  silver, 
gems,  and  marbles  were  less  attractive  than  the  culti- 
vated gentleman  who  sold  them ;  Gautier's,  the  pal- 
ace of  sweets,  with  Mrs.  Gautier  in  an  arm-chair 
before  her  counter  to  tell  you  the  precise  social 
status  of  every  one  of  her  customers,  and  what  is 
more,  to  put  you  in  your  own ;  Harper's,  where  the 
dainty,  leisurely  salesman  treated  his  laces  with  re- 
spect, drawing  up  his  cuffs  lest  they  touch  the  ethe- 
real beauties ;  and  the  little  corner  shop  of  stern 
Madame  Delarue,  who  imported  as  many  (and  no 
more)  hats  and  gloves  as  she  was  willing  to  sell  as  a 
favor  to  the  ladies  of  the  diplomatic  and  official 
circles,  and  whose  dark-eyed  daughter  Leonide 
(named  for  her  godmother,  a  Greek  lady  of  rank) 
was  susceptible  of  unreasoning  friendships  and  could 
be  coaxed  to  preserve  certain  treasures  for  humbler 
folk. 

Leonide  once  awoke  me  in  the  middle  of  the 
night  with  a  note  bidding  me  "  come  tout  de  suite" 
for  "  Maman  "  was  asleep,  the  boxes  had  arrived ; 
and  she  and  I  could  peep  at  the  bonnets  and  choose 


6  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

the  best  one  for  myself.  Thus  it  was  that  I  once 
bore  away  a  "  divine  creation  "  of  point  lace,  crepe, 
and  shaded  asters  before  Madame  had  seen  it. 
Otherwise  it  would  have  been  reserved  for  Miss 
Harriet  Lane  or  Mrs.  Douglas.  Madame  had  to 
know  later ;  and  Leonide  was  not  much  in  evidence 
the  rest  of  that  season.  At  Madame  Delarue's,  if  one 
was  very  gentil,  very  convenable,  one  might  have  the 
services  of  Fra^ois,  the  one  and  only  hair-dresser  of 
note,  who  had  adjusted  coronets  on  noble  heads, 
and  who  could  (if  he  so  minded)  talk  of  them  agree- 
ably in  Parisian  French. 

All  these  were  little  things ;  but  do  not  pleasant 
trifles  make  the  sum  of  pleasant  hours  ?  Washing- 
ton was  like  a  great  village  in  those  days  of  Presi- 
dent Pierce  and  President  Buchanan.  To  obtain 
the  best  of  the  few  articles  to  be  purchased  was  an 
achievement. 

My  own  pride  in  the  Federal  City  was  such  that 
my  heart  would  swell  within  me  at  every  glimpse  of 
the  Capitol :  from  the  moment  it  rose  like  a  white 
cloud  above  the  smoke  and  mists,  as  I  stood  on  the 
deck  of  the  steamboat  (having  run  up  from  my  din- 
ner to  salute  Mount  Vernon),  to  the  time  when  I 
was  wont  to  watch  from  my  window  for  the  sunset, 
that  I  might  catch  the  moment  when  a  point  on  the 
unfinished  dome  glowed  like  a  great  blazing  star 
after  the  sun  had  really  gone  down.  No  matter 
whether  suns  rose  or  set,  there  was  the  star  of  our 
country,  —  the  star  of  our  hearts  and  hopes. 

I  acknowledge  that  Wisdom  is  much  to  be  de- 
sired of  her  children,  but  nowhere  is  it  promised 


Washington  in  the  Fifties  7 

that  they  will  be  the  happier  for  gaining  her.  When 
my  lot  was  cast  in  Washington,  Wisdom  had  not 
taught  me  that  the  White  House  was  less  beautiful 
than  a  classic  temple.  To  be  sure,  Dickens  had 
called  it  "  like  an  English  club-house,"  —  that  was 
bad  enough,  —  but  Mark  Twain  had  not  yet  dubbed 
it  "  a  fine,  large,  white  barn  with  wide  handsome 
grounds  around  it."  "  The  President  lives  there," 
says  Washington  Hawkins.  "  It  is  ugly  enough 
outside,  but  that  is  nothing  to  what  it  is  inside." 
To  my  uneducated  eye  the  East  Room  with  its 
ornate  chandeliers,  fluted  pillars,  and  floriated  carpet 
was  an  audience  chamber  fit  for  a  king.  A  triumph 
of  artistic  perfection  was  the  equestrian  statue  of 
the  hero  of  New  Orleans,  now  known  to  be  out  of 
all  proportion,  and  condemned  as  "  bad  "  and  "  very 
bad"  by  Wisdom's  instructed  children.  Raising 
his  hat,  indeed !  Why,  any  man  in  that  position 
would  be  holding  on  to  the  mane  with  both  hands 
to  keep  from  sliding  off.  And  as  for  the  Capitol  — 
the  sacred  Capitol !  From  foundation  to  turret  it 
was  to  my  eye  all  that  genius  and  patriotism  could 
achieve.  The  splendid  marbles  at  the  entrance,  the 
paintings,  the  bas-reliefs  within  the  rotunda,  —  these 
were  things  to  boast  of,  to  dream  of.  Not  yet  had 
arisen  our  irreverent  humorist  to  warn  us  never  to 
enter  the  dome  of  the  Capitol,  "  because  to  get 
there  you  must  pass  through  the  great  rotunda,  and 
to  do  that  you  would  have  to  see  the  marvellous  his- 
torical paintings  that  hang  there  and  the  bas-reliefs, 
—  and  what  have  you  done  that  you  should  suffer 
this  ? " 


8  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

When  our  friends  came  up  from  Virginia  to  make 
us  visits,  it  was  delightful  to  take  a  carriage  and 
give  up  days  to  sight-seeing ;  to  visit  the  White 
House  and  Capitol,  the  Patent  Office  with  its  mis- 
cellaneous treasures ;  to  point  with  pride  to  the  rich 
gifts  from  crowned  heads  which  our  adored  first 
President  was  too  conscientious  to  accept ;  to  walk 
among  the  stones  lying  around  the  base  of  the  un- 
finished monument  and  read  the  inscriptions  from 
the  states  presenting  them;  to  spend  a  day  at  the 
Smithsonian  Institution,  and  to  introduce  our  friends 
to  its  president,  Mr.  Henry ;  and  to  Mr.  Spencer 
Baird  and  Mr.  Gerard,  eminent  naturalists,  who 
were  giving  their  lives  to  the  study  of  birds,  beasts, 
and  fishes,  —  finding  them,  Mr.  Gerard  said,  "  so 
much  more  interesting  than  men,"  adding  hastily, 
"  we  do  not  say  ladies,"  and  blushing  after  the  man- 
ner of  cloistered  scholars ;  to  tell  them  interesting 
things  about  Mr.  Gerard  who  was  a  melancholy 
young  man,  and  who  had  confided  to  me  that  he 
had  sustained  a  great  sorrow.  Had  he  lost  his 
fortune,  or  been  crossed  in  love,  was  he  homesick 
for  his  native  Switzerland  ?  Worse  than  any  one  or 
all  of  these  i  He  had  been  sent  once  to  Nantucket 
in  the  interests  of  his  profession.  There  he  had 
found  a  strange  fish,  hitherto  unknown  to  science. 
He  had  classified  its  bones  and  laid  them  out  on  his 
table  to  count  them.  In  a  moment's  absence  the 
housemaid  had  entered  and  dusted  his  table. 

Then  the  visits  to  the  galleries  of  the  House  and 
Senate  Chamber,  and  the  honor  of  pointing  out  the 
great  men  to  our  friends  from  rural  districts ;  the 


Washington  in  the  Fifties  9 

long  listening  to  interminable  speeches,  not  clearly 
understood,  but  heard  with  a  reverent  conviction 
that  all  was  coming  out  right  in  the  end,  that  every- 
body was  really  working  for  the  good  of  his  country, 
and  that  we  belonged  to  it  all  and  were  parts  of 
it  all. 

This  was  the  thought  behind  all  other  thoughts 
which  glorified  everything  around  us,  enhanced  every 
fortunate  circumstance,  and  caused  us  to  ignore  the 
real  discomforts  of  life  in  Washington :  the  cold, 
the  ice-laden  streets  in  winter ;  the  whirlwinds  of 
dust  and  driving  rains  of  spring ;  the  swift-coming 
fierceness  of  summer  heat;  the  rapid  atmospheric 
changes  which  would  give  us  all  these  extremes 
in  one  week,  or  even  one  day,  until  it  became 
the  part  of  prudence  never  to  sally  forth  on  any 
expedition  without  "  a  fan,  an  overcoat,  and  an 
umbrella." 

The  social  life  ir*  Washington  was  almost  as  vari- 
able as  the  climate.  At  the  end  of  every  four 
years  the  kaleidoscope  turned,  and  lo  !  —  a  new 
central  jewel  and  new  colors  and  combinations  in 
the  setting. 

But  behind  this  "  floating  population,"  as  the  po- 
litical circles  were  termed,  there  was  a  fine  society  in 
the  fifties  of  "  old  residents  "  who  never  bent  the  knee 
to  Baal.  This  society  was  sufficient  to  itself,  never 
seeking  the  new,  while  accepting  it  occasionally  with 
discretion,  reservations,  and  much  discriminating  care. 
The  sisters,  Mrs.  Gales  and  Mrs.  Seaton,  wives  of 
the  editors  of  the  National  Intelligencer^  led  this 
society.  Mrs.  Gales's  home  was  outside  the  city, 


io  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

and  thence  every  day  Mr.  Gales  was  driven  in  his 
barouche  to  his  office.  His  paper  was  the  exponent 
of  the  Old-Line  Whigs  (the  Republican  party  was 
formed  later)  and  in  stern  opposition  to  the  Demo- 
crats. It  was,  therefore,  a  special  and  unexpected 
honor  for  a  Democrat  to  be  permitted  to  drive  out 
to  "  the  cottage  "  for  a  glass  of  wine  and  a  bit  of 
fruit-cake  with  Mrs.  Gales  and  Mrs.  Seaton.  Never 
have  I  seen  these  gentlewomen  excelled  in  genial 
hospitality.  Mrs.  Gales  was  a  superb  old  lady  and 
a  fine  conversationalist.  She  had  the  courteous  re- 
pose born  of  dignity  and  intelligence.  She  was  liter- 
ally her  husband's  right  hand, — he  had  lost  his  own, 
— and  was  the  only  person  who  could  decipher  his 
left-hand  writing.  So  that  when  anything  appeared 
from  his  pen  it  had  been  copied  by  his  wife  before 
it  reached  the  type-setter.  A  fine  education  this  for 
an  intelligent  woman ;  the  very  best  schooling  for  a 
social  life  including  diplomats  from  foreign  coun- 
tries, politicians  of  diverse  opinions,  artists,  authors, 
musicians,  women  of  fashion,  to  entertain  whom 
required  infinite  tact,  cleverness,  and  an  intimate 
acquaintance  with  the  absorbing  questions  of  the 
day. 

Of  course  the  levees  and  state  receptions,  which 
were  accessible  to  all,  required  none  of  these  things. 
The  role  of  hostess  on  state  occasions  could  be 
filled  creditably  by  any  woman  of  ordinary  physical 
strength,  patience,  and  self-control,  who  knew  when 
to  be  silent. 

Washington  society,  at  the  time  of  which  I  write, 
was  comparatively  free  from  non-official  men  of 


Literary  Society  during  Fillmore's  Administration  1 1 

wealth  from  other  cities  who,  weary  with  the  mo- 
notonous round  of  travel, — to  the  Riviera,  to  Egypt, 
to  Monte  Carlo, — are  attracted  by  the  unique  atmos- 
phere of  a  city  holding  many  foreigners,  and  devoted 
not  to  commercial  but  to  social  and  political  inter- 
ests. The  doors  of  the  White  House  and  Cabinet 
offices  being  open  on  occasions  to  all,  they  have 
opportunities  denied  them  in  their  own  homes. 
Society  in  Washington  in  the  fifties  was  peculiarly 
interesting  in  that  it  was  composed  exclusively  of 
men  whose  presence  argued  them  to  have  been  of  im- 
portance at  home.  They  had  been  elected  by  the 
people,  or  chosen  by  the  President,  or  selected 
among  the  very  best  in  foreign  countries ;  or  they 
belonged  to  the  United  States  Army  or  Navy  ser- 
vice, or  to  the  descendants  of  the  select  society  which 
had  gathered  in  the  city  early  in  its  history. 

During  the  Fillmore  administration  there  were 
peculiar  elements  in  Washington  society.  The 
President  was  born  of  poor  English  parents.  At 
the  age  of  fifteen  he  was  apprentice  to  a  wool-carder 
in  Livingston  County,  New  York,  representing  in 
his  father's  mind  no  higher  hope  than  gradual  ad- 
vancement until  he  should  attain  the  proud  place  of 
woollen-draper.  But  at  nineteen  he  had  entered  a 
lawyer's  office,  working  all  day,  teaching  and  study- 
ing at  night.  When  he  became  President  his  tastes 
had  been  sufficiently  ripened  to  enable  him  to  gather 
around  him  men  of  literary  taste  and  attainment. 
John  P.  Kennedy,  an  author  and  a  man  of  ele- 
gant accomplishments,  was  Secretary  of  the  Navy. 
Washington  Irving  was  Kennedy's  friend,  and  often 


12  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

his  guest.  Lesser  lights  in  the  world  of  letters  found 
Washington  an  agreeable  residence.  We  knew  many 
of  these  men,  and  among  them  none  was  brighter, 
wittier,  or  more  genial  than  G.  P.  R.  James,  the 
English  novelist  whose  star  rose  and  set  before  1860. 
He  was  the  most  prolific  of  writers,  "  Like  an  end- 
less chain  of  buckets  in  a  well,"  said  one ;  "  as  fast 
as  one  is  emptied  up  comes  another." 

We  were  very  fond  of  Mr.  James.  One  day  he 
dashed  in,  much  excited  :  — 

"Have  you  seen  the  Intelligencer?  By  George, 
it's  all  true !  Six  times  has  my  hero,  a  ( solitary 
horseman/  emerged  from  a  wood !  My  word ! 
I  was  totally  unconscious  of  it !  Fancy  it !  Six 
times  !  Well,  it's  all  up  with  that  fellow.  He  has 
got  to  dismount  and  enter  on  foot :  a  beggar,  or 
burglar,  or  pedler,  or  at  best  a  mendicant  friar." 

"  But,"  suggested  one,  "  he  might  drive,  mightn't 
he  ? " 

"  Impossible  !  "  said  Mr.  James.  "  Imagine  a 
hero  in  a  gig  or  a  curricle  ! " 

"Perhaps,"  said  one,  "the  word  c solitary*  has 
given  offence.  Americans  dislike  exclusiveness. 
They  are  sensitive,  you  see,  and  look  out  for 
snobs." 

He  made  himself  very  merry  over  it;  but  the  soli- 
tary horseman  appeared  no  more  in  the  few  novels 
he  was  yet  to  write. 

One  day,  after  a  pleasant  visit  from  Mr.  James 
and  his  wife,  I  accompanied  them  at  parting  to  the 
front  door,  and  found  some  difficulty  in  turning  the 
bolt.  He  offered  to  assist,  but  I  said  no  —  he  was 


Literary  Society  during  Fillmore's  Administration  i  j 

not  supposed  to  understand  the  mystery  of  an 
American  front  door. 

Having  occasion  a  few  minutes  afterward  to  open 
the  door  for  another  departing  guest,  there  on  his 
knees  outside  was  Mr.  James,  who  laughingly  ex- 
plained that  he  had  left  his  wife  at  the  corner,  and 
had  come  back  to  investigate  that  mystery.  "  Per- 
haps you  will  tell  me,"  he  added,  and  was  much 
amused  to  learn  that  the  American  door  opened  of 
itself  to  an  incoming  guest,  but  positively  refused 
without  coaxing  to  let  him  out.  "  By  George,  that's 
fine ! "  he  said,  "  that'll  please  the  critics  in  my 
next."  I  never  knew  whether  it  was  admitted,  for 
I  must  confess  that,  even  with  the  stimulus  of  his 
presence,  his  books  were  dreary  reading  to  my  un- 
instructed  taste. 

A  very  lovely  and  charming  actress  was  promi- 
nent in  Washington  society  at  this  time,  —  the 
daughter  of  an  old  New  York  family,  Anna  Cora 
(Ogden)  Mowatt.  She  was  especially  interesting  to 
Virginians,  for  she  had  captivated  Foushee  Ritchie, 
soon  afterward  my  husband's  partner  on  the  editor- 
ship of  the  Richmond  Enquirer.  Mr.  Ritchie,  a  con- 
firmed old  bachelor,  had  been  fascinated  by  Mrs. 
Mowatt's  Parthenia  (in  "Ingomar")  and  was  now 
engaged  to  her.  He  proudly  brought  to  me  a  pair 
of  velvet  slippers  she  had  embroidered  for  him, 
working  around  them  as  a  border  a  quotation  from 
"  Ingomar  "  :  — 


Two  souls  with  but  a  single  thought, 
Two  hearts  that  beat  as  one." 


14  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

And  oh,  how  angry  he  was  when  an  irreverent  voice 
whispered  one  word,  "  Soles  !  " 

"  Cora  must  never  hear  of  this,"  he  declared  in- 
dignantly ;  "  she  is,  beyond  all  women,  incapable  of 
double  entendre^  of  coarse  allusion." 

Alas  !  I  cannot  conclude  my  little  story,  "  And 
they  were  married  and  lived  happily  ever  after." 
They  were  married  —  and  lived  miserably  —  and 
were  separated  ever  after.  The  single  thought  was 
how  they  could  best  escape  each  other  —  and  the 
two  hearts  beat  as  one  in  the  desire  for  freedom. 

"  The  shadow  of  the  coming  war  was  even  then 
beginning  to  darken  the  land  and  confuse  legislation 
with  bitter  partisanship  and  continuous  attempts  at 
an  impossible  compromise,"  but,  alas !  our  eyes 
were  holden  so  we  could  not  see. 


CHAPTER   II 

PRESIDENT    PIERCE' S    INAUGURATION 

ON  the  4th  of  March,  1853,  Franklin  Pierce 
was  inaugurated  President  of  the  United 
States.  This  was  an  exciting  day  for  me. 
My  husband  had  written  articles  for  a  Virginia  paper 
which  had  won  for  him  a  place  on  the  editorial  staff 
of  the  Washington  Union,  and  was  now  in  a  position 
to  break  a  lance  with  my  friends,  Messrs.  Gales  and 
Seaton.  Mr.  Pierce  had  liked  his  articles  in  the 
Union,  and  sought  his  acquaintance.  A  friendship 
rapidly  followed  which  was  a  happiness  to  us  both. 
So  when  some  member  of  the  staff  of  the  Demo- 
cratic organ  must  be  consulted  about  the  inaugural 
address,  the  President  had  sent  for  my  young  hus- 
band and  had  taken  counsel  with  him. 

I  was  delighted  when  I  received  an  invitation 
from  my  good  friends  of  the  Smithsonian  Institution 
to  join  them  in  a  pleasant  room  opening  on  a  bal- 
cony and  overlooking  Pennsylvania  Avenue,  where 
we  were  to  have  a  collation  and  witness  the  parade. 
My  husband's  sixteen-year-old  sister,  Fanny,  was 
with  me,  and  she  was  literally  wild  with  delight. 
The  rest  of  the  party  were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Spencer 
Baird,  little  Lucy  Baird,  Mr.  Gerard,  and  Mr. 
Turner.  Little  eight-year-old  Lucy  was  the  belle 

15 


1 6  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

of  the  occasion ;  so  wise  in  scientific  matters,  know- 
ing so  much  about  "  specimens "  and  "  extinct 
species  "  that  we  felt  ourselves  heavy  and  ignorant 
beside  her.  "  Come  now,  Lucy,"  said  Mr.  Turner, 
"  I  expect  you  to  take  care  of  me  on  this  occasion. 
These  are  painful  scenes  for  an  Englishman.  When 
you  see  the  Continental  troops  coming,  give  me  the 
wink,  and  I'll  slip  away  and  stir  the  punch.  Those 
are  the  fellows  who  whipped  the  British  ! " 

The  elements  frowned  upon  the  change  of  ad- 
ministration. The  sun  was  blanketed  with  dark 
clouds,  from  which  the  snow  fell  thickly  —  not  a 
soft,  enfolding  snow,  but  snow  driven  by  an  angry 
wind.  The  crowd  in  the  avenue  was  immense ; 
swelled  by  the  presence  of  the  largest  number  of 
strangers  ever  before  gathered  at  an  Inauguration, 
the  majority  of  whom  were  members  of  the  mighty 
army  of  office-seekers  from  the  party  recently  come 
into  power.  From  the  White  House  to  the  Capitol, 
windows,  balconies,  and  roofs  were  thronged ;  and 
the  sidewalks  of  the  avenue  were  filled  with  a  motley 
crowd  of  men,  women,  and  children,  foreigners,  gov- 
ernment clerks,  and  negroes. 

About  twelve  o'clock  the  boom  of  a  great  gun 
announced  the  moving  of  the  procession.  The 
throng  in  the  streets  surged  toward  the  gates  of  the 
Capitol,  and  "lined  up"  on  either  side  awaiting 
the  arrival  of  the  cortege.  Carriages  filled  with 
women  and  children,  some  of  them  with  the  em- 
blazoned panels  of  foreign  ministers,  passed  rapidly 
in  advance  of  the  cavalcade  —  the  police  actively 
engaged  the  while  in  keeping  the  waiting  crowd 


President  Pierce's   Inauguration  17 

within  bounds.  Presently  distant  music  was  heard, 
and  a  mighty  cheer  announced  the  near  approach  of 
the  escort.  Six  marshals  in  gay  scarfs  led  the  pro- 
cession. Then  came  the  "  flying  artillery,"  drawn 
by  fifty  or  more  horses.  An  interval,  and  then  pla- 
toons of  soldiers  of  diverse  battalions  filled  square 
after  square,  and  band  after  band  of  martial  music 
mingled  with  the  cheers  of  the  crowd. 

We  were  all  out  now  on  the  balcony,  little  Lucy 
keenly  alert.  Presently  she  touched  Mr.  Turner 
on  his  arm  and  he  fled !  The  Continentals  were 
passing. 

Following  these,  in  an  open  carriage  drawn  by 
four  fine  horses,  came  our  President :  the  youngest, 
handsomest  President  we  had  ever  elected.  As  he 
neared  our  balcony  we  stood  up,  waved  and  cheered, 
and  threw  him  flowers,  and  so  winning  in  their 
enthusiasm  were  little  Lucy  (her  mind  being  now 
quite  at  rest  about  Mr.  Turner)  and  my  own  young 
sister,  that  the  President  rose  and  bared  his  head  to 
us. 

A  platform  had  been  erected  over  the  steps  of  the 
east  wing,  and  on  it  was  a  table  holding  a  Bible. 
The  distinguished  officials  of  the  time  were  seated 
around  this  table,  and  beneath  it  the  crowd  pushed 
and  scrambled  and  struggled  for  place  within  hear- 
ing. Instantly  there  was  silence.  The  slender, 
almost  boyish  figure  of  our  President  approached 
the  table,  and  with  bared  head  under  the  falling 
snow  stood  for  a  moment  surveying  the  crowd. 

His  face  was  pale,  and  his  countenance  wore  an 
expression  of  weary  sadness.  When  he  took  the 


1 8  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

oath  he  did  not,  as  is  the  custom,  use  the  word 
"  swear."  Placing  his  left  hand  on  the  Bible  with- 
out raising  the  book,  he  raised  his  right  and,  look- 
ing upward,  "  affirmed  "  that,  God  helping  him,  he 
would  be  faithful  to  his  trust. 

There  were  tears  in  his  voice,  but  it  was  musical, 
and  his  enunciation  was  clear  and  distinct. 

Only  two  months  before,  his  only  child,  a  beauti- 
ful boy  of  thirteen,  had  been  killed  in  a  railroad 
collision  —  killed  before  his  parents*  eyes  !  His 
address  began,  "  My  countrymen  !  It  is  a  relief  to 
feel  that  no  heart  but  my  own  can  know  the  per- 
sonal regret  and  bitter  sorrow  over  which  I  have 
been  borne  to  a  position  so  suitable  for  others 
rather  than  desirable  for  myself." 

The  public  does  not  tolerate  the  intrusion  of  a 
man's  personal  joys  and  griefs  into  his  official  life. 
However  willing  the  world  may  be  to  sympathize, 
it  considers  this  indicative  of  a  mind  lacking  fine- 
ness and  delicacy.  To  keep  one's  inner  self  in  the 
background  should  be  the  instinct,  and  is  surely 
the  policy,  of  every  man  and  woman  who  aspires  to 
popularity. 

There  were  many  who  quickly  criticised  this  un- 
fortunate sentence  of  the  President.  The  Whig 
journals  sneered  at  it  as  "a  trick  of  the  orator  to 
awaken  personal  interest  before  proceeding  to  unfold 
his  public  policy."  But  he  had  the  sympathetic 
tears  of  many  of  his  audience. 

His  address  went  on  to  discuss  the  annexation  of 
Cuba  —  a  dream  which  lasted  through  many  subse- 
quent years.  The  Pearl  of  the  Antilles  was  ardently 


The  New  Cabinet  19 

coveted  as  a  pendant  to  our  chain  of  states,  but  she 
will  never  belong  to  us,  unless  as  the  result  of  more 
misfortune.  The  President  then  pledged  himself  to 
the  never  dying  Monroe  Doctrine,  prayed  appeal- 
ingly  for  the  preservation  of  our  Union,  and 
touched  upon  the  troubled  questions  which,  despite 
all  our  wars  and  sufferings,  are  not  yet  fully  settled. 
And  then,  amid  cheers  and  shouts  and  salvos  of 
artillery,  he  was  driven  to  his  new  home,  and  it  was 
all  over. 

Three  days  after  the  inauguration  the  Cabinet 
nominations  were  sent  to  the  Senate.  Mr.  Marcy 
was  to  be  Secretary  of  State ;  Mr.  Guthrie,  Secre- 
tary of  the  Treasury;  Jefferson  Davis,  of  War ; 
James  Dobbin,  of  the  Navy :  Robert  McClelland, 
of  the  Interior;  James  Campbell,  Postmaster-Gen- 
eral ;  Caleb  Cushing,  Attorney-General  —  four  men 
from  the  North,  three  from  the  South.  These, 
then,  with  their  families,  were  to  lead  the  social  life 
of  Washington  for  four  years.  The  Executive 
Mansion,  shrouded  in  gloom,  could  never  become  a 
social  centre. 

We  had  the  honor  of  knowing  well  the  three 
most  distinguished  of  these  men,  Mr.  Marcy,  Mr. 
Davis,  and  Mr.  Cushing. 

Mr.  Marcy,  the  best-known  member  of  the  Cabi- 
net, strong,  honest,  and  an  adroit  politician,  was  a 
man  of  rugged  and  abrupt  manners,  yet  a  great  fa- 
vorite with  the  ladies.  We  at  once  became  keenly 
interested  in  his  initial  proceedings.  He  was  sternly 
democratic  in  his  ideas.  Absorbing  as  were  the 
cares  of  his  department,  exciting  and  menacing  as 


2O  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

were  the  questions  of  the  hour,  he  inaugurated  his 
official  life  by  settling  matters  of  dress  and  etiquette 
—  so  far  as  they  related  to  the  presence  of  Ameri- 
can envoys  at  foreign  courts.  President  Jackson 
had  been  supposed  to  be  democratic,  but  he  was  a 
bloated  aristocrat  beside  Mr.  Marcy.  Jackson  had 
rejected  the  prescribed  court  dress,  —  embroidered 
cuffs  and  cape,  white  breeches,  gold  knee-buckles, 
white  silk  stockings,  gold  shoe-buckles,  chapeau- 
bras,  cockade,  eagle,  white  feather,  and  sword. 
Alackaday,  that  we  should  have  lost  all  this 
bravery  !  Jackson  decreed  no  cape  at  all  (such  a 
friendly  fashion  to  laden  shoulders),  no  embroid- 
ery except  a  gold  star  on  the  coat-collar,  —  but 
breeches  and  modest  buckles,  a  sword,  a  chapeau- 
bras  with  eagle  and  cockade. 

Now  why  should  Mr.  Marcy  make  trouble  by 
meddling  with  the  cut  of  the  garments  of  our  repre- 
sentatives abroad  —  at  a  time,  too,  when  such  a 
number  of  serious  questions  were  about  to  come 
before  him ;  when  filibusters  were  at  work,  a  war 
with  Spain  imminent,  treaties  to  be  made  with 
Mexico,  and  fishery  questions  to  be  settled  with 
England  ?  Simply,  I  suppose,  because  great  men 
all  over  the  world  have  condescended  to  prescribe 
in  trifling  matters  —  matters  belonging  to  the  chef, 
the  milliner,  the  arbiter  of  fleeting  fashions.  It 
would  seem  that  the  greater  the  man  the  greater 
his  appreciation  of  trifles.  Everything  to  him  is 
important  —  from  the  signing  of  a  treaty  to  the 
tying  of  a  shoestring. 

The  consequences  of  Mr.  Marcy's  meddling  were 


The  Secretary  of  State  prescribes  Court  Dress     21 

far-reaching.  On  June  i,  1853,  he  issued  a  circu- 
lar recommending  that  our  representatives  abroad 
should,  in  order  to  show  their  devotion  to  republi- 
can institutions,  appear  whenever  practicable  in  the 
simple  dress  of  an  American  citizen. 

Our  Minister  at  Berne  found  the  court  of  Swit- 
zerland quite  willing  to  receive  him  in  his  citizen's 
dress.  The  Ministers  at  Turin  and  Brussels  reported 
they  would  have  no  difficulty  in  carrying  out  the  in- 
structions of  the  State  Department.  The  represen- 
tative at  Berlin  was  at  once  informed  that  such  action 
would  be  considered  disrespectful.  The  king  of 
Sweden  insisted  on  court  dress  at  social  functions. 
Mr.  August  Belmont,  at  The  Hague,  received  a  cold 
permission  from  the  king  to  dress  as  he  pleased  — 
and  it  is  recorded  (as  matter  for  gratitude  on  the 
part  of  the  American  Minister)  that  after  all,  and 
notwithstanding,  the  queen  actually  danced  with 
him  in  his  citizen's  dress,  and  the  king  conde- 
scended to  shake  him  by  the  hand  and  to  talk  with 
him  ! 

Mr.  Mason,  at  the  French  court,  could  not  face 
the  music  !  He  consulted  his  wife,  and  together 
they  agreed  upon  a  compromise.  He  appeared  in 
an  embroidered  coat,  sword,  and  cocked  hat,  and 
had  the  misfortune  to  receive  from  Mr.  Marcy  a 
severe  rebuke. 

Mr.  Buchanan,  at  the  court  of  St.  James,  having 
no  wife  to  consult,  thought  long  and  anxiously  on 
the  subject.  The  question  was  still  unsettled  at  the 
opening  of  Parliament  in  February,  1854.  Our 
Minister  did  not  attend,  —  he  had  "  nothing  to 


22  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

wear,"  —  whereupon  "  there  was  quite  a  sensation 
in  the  House  of  Lords."  "  Indeed,"  he  wrote  to 
Mr.  Marcy,  "  I  have  found  difficulty  in  preventing 
this  incident  from  becoming  a  subject  of  inquiry 
and  remark  in  the  House  of  Commons."  Think 
of  that !  At  a  time  when  England  was  on  the  eve 
of  a  war  with  Russia,  all  the  newspapers,  court  offi- 
cials, House  of  Commons,  exercised  about  the  dress 
of  the  American  Minister !  The  London  Times 
stated  that  on  a  diplomatic  occasion  "  the  American 
Minister  sate  unpleasantly  conscious  of  his  singu- 
larity." The  London  Chronicle  blamed  General 
Pierce's  republican  ill  manners,  and  the  cc  American 
puppyism,"  and  continued :  "  There  is  not  the  least 
reason  why  her  Majesty  should  be  troubled  to 
receive  the  c  gentleman  in  the  black  coat '  from 
Yankee-land !  He  can  say  his  say  at  the  Foreign 
Office,  dine  at  a  chop-house  in  King  Street,  sleep  at 
the  old  Hummums,  and  be  off  as  he  came,  per  liner, 
when  his  business  is  done." 

Poor  Mr.  Buchanan,  sorely  pressed,  conceived 
the  idea  of  costuming  himself  like  General  Wash- 
ington, and  to  that  end  examined  Stuart's  portrait. 
He  may  even  have  gone  so  far  as  to  indulge  in  a 
private  rehearsal  —  queue,  powdered  wig,  and  all ; 
but  he  seems  to  have  perceived  he  would  only 
make  himself  ridiculous  ;  so  he  took  his  life  in  his 
hands  and  —  brave  gentleman  as  he  was  —  appeared 
at  the  queen's  levee  in  the  dress  of  an  American 
citizen ;  and  she,  true  lady  as  she  was,  settled  the 
matter,  for  her  court  at  least,  by  receiving  him  as 
she  did  all  others.  Mr.  Buchanan  wrote  to  his 


Mr.  Soule  at  the  Court  of  Madrid         23 

niece,  Miss  Harriet  Lane,  cc  I  wore  a  sword  to 
gratify  those  who  yielded  so  much,  and  to  distin- 
guish me  from  the  upper  court  servants." 

Mr.  Soule,  at  the  court  of  Madrid,  adopted  the 
costume  of  Benjamin  Franklin  at  the  court  of 
Louis  XVI  —  sword,  chapeau,  black  velvet,  and 
much  embroidery,  looking,  "  with  his  black  eyes, 
black  looks,  and  pale  complexion,  less  like  the 
philosopher  whose  costume  he  imitated  than  the 
master  of  Ravenswood."  There  had  been  a  lively 
discussion  among  the  Austrian  and  Mexican  Minis- 
ters and  the  Countess  of  Montijo,  the  mother  of 
the  Empress  Eugenie  and  of  the  Duchess  of  Alba, 
whether  or  no  he  should  be  rejected ;  but  Mr. 
Soule  did  not  know  this.  The  queen  received  him, 
he  wrote  to  Mr.  Marcy,  "  with  marked  attention 
and  courtesy." 

There  is  no  telling  whether  this  simple  deviation 
from  the  prescribed  court  dress  was  not  the  real 
cause  of  Mr.  Soule' s  serious  troubles  at  court.  It 
was  the  Duke  of  Alba  who  provided  the  spark 
which  fired  the  train  of  Spanish  indignation  against 
him  and  occasioned  a  quarrel  which  resulted  in  two 
duels  and  strained  relations  which  were  never 
reconciled. 

It  is  always  dangerous  to  infringe  upon  accepted 
rules  of  etiquette,  even  in  association  with  those 
who  are  themselves  defiant  of  these  rules.  I  dis- 
covered that  Mr.  Marcy  was  very  jealous  of  respect 
due  to  himself,  as  well  as  to  his  government. 

He  was  a  prime  favorite,  as  I  have  said,  with 
the  ladies  —  and  with  none  more  than  the  charming 


$4  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

family  of  "  Father  Ritchie,"  as  we  called  one  of 
Washington's  most  esteemed  citizens.  Mr.  Ritchie 
had  been  editor  for  forty  years  of  the  Richmond 
Enquirer,  which  he  had  founded  under  the  auspices 
of  Thomas  Jefferson,  and  made  one  of  the  most 
influential  Democratic  papers  of  the  country.  His 
home  in  Washington  was  noted  for  elegant  hospi- 
tality. He  lived  next  door  to  Mr.  Corcoran  on 
Lafayette  Square,  near  St.  John's  Church.  He  had 
lovely  daughters,  and  whenever  Mr.  Marcy  appeared 
in  the  salons  of  the  town,  one  or  more  of  these 
ladies  was  sure  to  be  with  him. 

It  so  happened  that  some  of  us  were  much  in- 
terested in  a  poor,  worthy  young  man,  who  desired 
a  position  in  the  State  Department.  His  applica- 
tion had  long  ago  been  filed  in  the  office  and  we 
were  afraid  he  had  been  forgotten.  We  longed 
to  ask  Mr.  Marcy  about  it,  but  did  not  know 
how  we  could  manage  to  bring  the  subject  to  his 
notice. 

"  Let's  make  Ann  Eliza  ask  him,"  suggested 
one.  Now,  Ann  Eliza  Ritchie  was  a  beauty,  as 
fascinating  a  young  creature  as  the  Lord  ever  made, 
irresistible  alike  to  man  and  woman.  She  hesi- 
tated,—  everybody  was  afraid  of  Mr.  Marcy  —  but 
goaded  on  by  us,  she  ventured :  — 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Marcy "  (Virginia  girls  always  begin 
with  "  Oh  "),  "  Oh,  Mr.  Marcy  !  They  all  want  to 
know  if  you  are  going  to  appoint  Mr.  Randolph 
in  your  department." 

The  lion  turned.  He  did  not  growl,  he  simply 
roared :  "  What  do  you  mean,  madame  ?  How 


Jefferson  Davis  25 

dare  you  take  the  bull  by  the  horns  in  this  un- 
seemly manner  ?  " 

And  so  no  more  of  Ann  Eliza  Ritchie.  And  so 
no  more  of  the  rest  of  us.  We  learned  a  lesson 
we  never  forgot ;  namely,  not  to  meddle  in  Cabi- 
net affairs,  but  to  content  ourselves  with  the  honor 
of  amusing  great  men,  —  in  short,  to  know  our 
place  and  keep  it. 

Mr.  Jefferson  Davis  had  been  an  eminent  public 
man  long  before  the  presidency  of  Mr.  Pierce.  He 
was  a  graduate  of  West  Point.  He  had  been  an 
officer  in  the  Indian  wars.  He  was  in  the 
House  of  Representatives  at  the  age  of  thirty- 
seven.  John  Quincy  Adams  heard  his  maiden 
speech  and  said :  "  That  young  man  is  no  ordi- 
nary man.  He  will  make  his  mark  yet,  mind 
me."  His  devotion  to  reading  and  study  amounted 
to  a  passion.  He  had  served  as  a  colonel  in  the 
Mexican  War.  It  was  said  of  him  that  "  his  brill- 
iant movement  at  Buena  Vista  carried  the  day,  and 
that  his  tactical  conception  was  worthy  of  a  Caesar 
or  a  Napoleon/' l 

He  was  afterward  a  member  for  four  years  of 
the  United  States  Senate,  and  although  defeated  in 
a  gubernatorial  contest  in  Mississippi,  he  rose 
rapidly  in  the  esteem  of  the  people  of  his  own  sec- 
tion ;  and  now,  at  the  age  of  forty-five,  he  was  the 
"  leader  of  the  Southern  people,  and  successor  of 
John  C.  Calhoun."  He  was  leader  a  few  years 
later  in  the  Battle  of  the  Giants,  fought  so  bitterly 
in  Mr.  Buchanan's  time. 

1 J.  F.  Rhodes's  "  History  of  the  United  States,"  Vol.  I.  p.  390. 


26  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

Of  Mr.  Caleb  Gushing  I  knew  less  than  I  did 
of  Mr.  Davis  and  Mr.  Marcy.  He  had  great 
learning,  great  ability,  wide  experience  in  public 
life.  He  has  been  described  as  a  "  scholar,  author, 
lawyer,  statesman,  diplomatist,  general,  and  judge." 
He  was  one  of  the  rare  class  of  men  who  are  pre- 
cocious in  childhood  and  youth,  and  who  go  intel- 
lectually from  strength  to  strength  as  long  as  they 
live.  He  was  graduated  from  Harvard  when  only 
seventeen  years  of  age.  He  was  a  most  attractive 
man  in  manner  and  address,  and  a  fascinating  public 
speaker.  He  could  quote  the  "  Iliad  "  from  begin- 
ning to  end,  and  could  speak  to  each  one  of  the 
foreign  ambassadors  in  his  own  tongue. 

Mr.  Gushing  sent  an  editorial  nearly  every  day 
to  the  Washington  Union,  of  which  my  husband  was 
associate  editor.  No  compliment  upon  his  own 
articles  which  my  husband  ever  received  was  more 
gratefully  appreciated  than  one  from  Mr.  Gushing. 
A  serious  difference  of  opinion  had  arisen  with  the 
senior  editor,  because  of  a  paper  upon  the  Anglo- 
Russian  war,  in  which  my  husband  warmly  advo- 
cated the  side  of  Russia.  He  declined  retracting 
his  words  (which  were  copied  and  translated  abroad), 
and  finally  gave  up  his  position  on  the  paper  rather 
than  express  sentiments  other  than  his  own.  Mr. 
Gushing  applauded  him,  and  bade  him  stand  fear- 
lessly by  an  argument,  "unanswered  and  un- 
answerable." 

Shortly  after  this  Mr.  Pierce  appointed  my  hus- 
band special  Minister  to  Greece.  I  longed  to  go 
with  him  to  Athens,  but  my  mother's  health  was 


The  President's  Charm  of  Manner          27 

frail,  and  I  felt  I  could  not  leave  her.  So  I  re- 
turned to  my  home  in  Virginia  with  my  children, 
and  their  father  went  on  his  mission  alone.  When 
it  was  accomplished,  the  Pierce  administration  was 
drawing  to  a  close. 

My  temporary  home  was  near  Charlottesville, 
and  thither,  on  his  way  South,  came  the  President 
to  spend  a  day  and  to  visit  Monticello,  the  home 
of  the  Father  of  Democracy.  He  wrote  to  me, 
inviting  me  to  spend  the  evening  with  him  and  a 
few  friends  at  his  hotel.  We  had  a  delightful  even- 
ing. He  told  me  all  I  wished  to  know  of  the  exile 
far  away  in  Greece,  expressed  warm  friendship  for 
him  and  his,  and  presented  me  with  two  gorgeous 
volumes,  bound  sumptuously  in  green  morocco, 
and  inscribed,  from  my  "  friend  Franklin  Pierce," 
in  his  own  fine  handwriting.  I  played  at  his  re- 
quest, he  sitting  the  while  beside  the  piano.  I 
selected  Henselt's  «  L'Elisire  d' Amour  "  and  «  La 
Gondola,"  to  the  great  delight  of  the  President.  The 
other  day  I  read,  from  the  pen  of  some  irreverent 
critic,  of  the  "lilting  puerilities  of  the  innocuous 
Henselt."  All  the  same,  these  puerilities  pleased 
the  President,  and  will  charm  the  world  until  the 
end  of  time. 

I  feel  that  I  have  said  too  little  of  Mr.  Pierce  in 
this  sketch  of  the  men  we  knew.  I  cannot  hope  to 
convey  an  adequate  conception  of  his  captivating 
voice  and  manner.  Surely  its  source  was  in  genuine 
kindness  of  heart.  I  knew  nothing  of  him  as  a 
politician.  It  was  urged  against  him  that  he  was 
extremely  partial  to  the  South.  I  know  the  South 


28  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

honored  and  loved  him  always.  It  was  said  that 
"  Franklin  Pierce  could  not  say  c  No '  "  —  a  weakness 
which  doubtless  caused  him  a  world  of  trouble  in 
his  political  relations,  but  to  which  he  may  have 
owed  something  of  the  indescribable  charm  for 
which  he  was  conspicuous.  Mr.  Seward,  his  politi- 
cal opponent,  wrote  to  his  wife :  "  The  President 
has  a  very  winning  way  in  his  manners."  I  can 
fully  understand  the  beautiful  friendship  between 
him  and  Nathaniel  Hawthorne.  How  exquisite  the 
answer  of  the  author  when  chidden  because  he  had 
dedicated  a  book  to  the  President,  after  the  latter 
had  become  unpopular  :  "  Unpopular,  is  he  ?  If 
he  is  so  exceedingly  unpopular  that  his  name  is 
enough  to  sink  the  volume,  there  is  so  much  the 
more  need  that  an  old  friend  should  stand  by  him." 

Hawthorne  had  then  arrived  at  the  height  of  his 
own  popularity,  while  his  friend,  on  account  of  his 
fancied  Southern  sympathies,  had  lost  the  friendship 
of  his  own  people.  A  bitter  lot  for  a  sensitive 
patriot,  who  had  done  his  best !  "  An  angel  can  no 
more ! " 

My  residence  in  Washington  during  the  Pierce 
administration  was  too  short  to  afford  me  more 
than  a  brief  glimpse  of  the  social  life  of  the  city, 
but  I  keenly  enjoyed  that  glimpse.  I  had  the 
good  fortune  to  find  favor,  as  I  have  said,  with 
the  old  residents,  and  also  with  the  Hon.  W.  W. 
Corcoran,  at  whose  house  the  best  of  the  old  and 
new  could  always  be  found. 

There  I  met  many  distinguished  people.  I 
remember  especially  General  Winfield  Scott,  Sam 


General  Scott  and  Sam  Houston  29 

Houston,  and  Washington  Irving.  General  Scott, 
grand,  imposing,  and  ceremonious,  never  failed  to 
tell  everybody  that  he  had  been  groomsman  for  my 
husband's  father  —  he  had  been  born  in  Petersburg, 
Virginia.  He  addressed  all  young  women  as  "  fair 
lady."  He  was  a  great  hero  and  a  splendid  old 
fellow  in  every  particular,  and  he  never  for  a  moment 
forgot  his  heroism  and  his  splendor.  People  called 
him  "  vain.1'  So  great  a  man  could  not  be  accused 
of  vanity  —  "  the  food  of  fools."  He  had  a  reason- 
able pride  in  what  he  had  achieved,  but  his  was  cer- 
tainly not  the  kind  of  pride  that  apes  humility. 

As  for  old  Sam  Houston,  he  had  had  romance 
enough  in  his  past  life  for  a  dozen  heroes.  He  had 
lived  many  years  among  the  Indians,  had  fought  in 
many  wars,  had  achieved  the  independence  of  Texas 
—  what  had  he  not  done?  Now  he  was  Senator 
from  Texas,  very  popular,  and  rather  impatient, 
one  might  judge,  of  the  confinement  and  restraints 
of  his  position.  It  was  amusing  to  see  the  little 
pages  of  the  Senate  Chamber  providing  him  with 
small  bundles  of  soft  pine  sticks,  which  he  would 
smuggle  into  his  desk  with  a  rather  shamefaced 
expression.  Doubled  up  over  this  desk,  his  face 
almost  covered  with  his  hanging  eyebrows  and 
iron-gray  whiskers,  he  occupied  himself  in  whit- 
tling sticks  as  a  safety-valve  for  unrest  while  listen- 
ing to  the  long  speeches,  lasting  sometimes  until 
midnight.  He  would  prove  afterward  in  his  brill- 
iant conversation  that  he  had  not  lost  a  word. 
Sometimes  the  pine  under  his  knife  would  take 
shape  in  little  crosses,  amulets,  etc.  He  was  known, 


30  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

now  and  then,  to  draw  from  the  pocket  of  his  tiger- 
skin  vest  an  exquisitely  carved  heart  and  present  it 
to  some  young  lady  whose  beauty  attracted  him. 

Then  there  was  Washington  Irving,  —  an  old 
man  with  but  a  few  years  to  live.  He  died  before 
the  end  of  the  next  administration.  One  would 
never  think  him  old, — so  keen  and  alert  was  he, — 
but  for  his  trick  of  suddenly  falling  asleep  for  a 
minute  or  two  in  the  middle  of  a  conversation.  A 
whisper,  "  Sh-h-h,"  would  pass  from  one  to  another, 
"  Mr.  Irving  is  asleep  ; "  and  in  a  moment  he  would 
wake  up,  rub  his  hands,  and  exclaim,  "  Well,  as  we 
were  saying,"  taking  up  the  conversation  just  where 
he  had  left  it. 

My  little  sister  worshipped  Mr.  Irving.  cc  Only 
Jet  me  see  him,"  she  pleaded ;  "  only  let  me  touch 
the  hand  that  wrote  the  £  Sketch  Book/  " 

I  repeated  this  when  I  introduced  her,  and  he  said  : 
"  Ah,  yes,  yes !  I  know !  I  have  heard  all  that 
before  —  many  times  before.  And  just  as  I  am  get- 
ting happy  over  it,  here  comes  a  young  fellow, 
some  whipper-snapper  who  never  wrote  a  line,  and 
[mimicking]  it's  (  Good  evening,  Mr.  Irving,  I  am 
glad  to  have  met  you/  ' 

It  happened  that  my  sister  had  not  heard.  She  was 
already  distraite.  Her  favorite  friend  had  appeared, 
and  she  at  once  echoed, "  Good  evening,  Mr.  Irving, 
I  am  glad  to  have  met  you,"  to  the  old  gentle- 
man's infinite  delight  and  amusement.  I  was  proud 
to  have  had  even  a  word  with  "  America's  most  cele- 
brated writer :  exquisite  in  courtesy  and  fidelity  and 
of  lofty  purity  of  character."  He  died  in  1859  — 


Washington  Irving  31 

the  heart  which  had  ached  so  long  for  the  death  of 
an  early  love  failing  him  suddenly  at  "  Sleepy 
Hollow,"  his  home  on  the  Hudson.  His  country 
scarcely  noticed  his  death  !  That  country,  crazed 
on  the  subject  of  slavery,  was  writing  columns  on 
columns  about  John  Brown. 

One  morning,  when  I  was  passing  the  corner  of 
Fifteenth  Street,  below  President  Square,  my  steps 
were  arrested  by  a  large  crowd  which  had  assembled 
in  front  of  the  bank  of  Corcoran  &  Riggs.  "  Dear 
me/'  I  thought,  "  has  the  bank  failed  ?  "  But  the 
green  blinds  of  the  plain  two-storied  building  were 
all  open,  and  presently  through  the  opening  door, 
escorted  by  Mr.  Riggs  himself,  came  a  slight  little 
maid  in  a  Connemara  cloak  and  hood.  Mr.  Riggs 
put  her  in  a  waiting  carriage,  slammed  the  door,  and, 
with  a  look  which  said  plainly  to  the  waiting  crowd, 
"No  more  this  time,"  reentered  the  house. 

The  little  lady  was  Adelina  Patti — just  sixteen 

—  and  Mr.  Riggs's  guest  during  the  few  days  she 
spent  in  Washington  on  her  way  to  meet  Southern 
engagements.     Congressmen  tendered  her  a  compli- 
mentary benefit,  and  she  sang  in  a  small  hall,  sup- 
ported by  a  few  local  musicians.     She  stood  before 
us  in  a  simple  muslin  slip,  her  dark  hair  bound  with 
a  narrow  blue  velvet  ribbon,  —  a  Scottish  "  snood," 

—  and  never,  in  all  her  brilliant  life,  was  she  more 
appreciated,  more  admired. 

I  could  remember  a  time  of  musical  dearth  in 
Virginia,  relieved  only  by  rare  occasions  when  the 
dimly  lighted  concert  rooms  would  be  filled  by  eager 
listeners  to  wandering  minstrels :  the  Hutchinson 


32  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

family,  Anna  Bishop,  the  Orpheans,  Parodi,  and 
Amalia  Patti.  After  a  while  Strakosch  appeared  with 
an  infant  phenomenon.  She  looked  precisely  like  a 
French  doll,  with  her  little  round  face,  pink  cheeks, 
and  big  black  eyes,  dressed  in  short  frocks  of  rose- 
color  or  blue  silk.  But  she  sang  like  a  linnet  on 
a  bough ;  and  it  was  comical  to  see  her  in  her  duets 
inclining  her  small  head  toward  her  contralto,  after 
the  manner  of  other  divas.  This  was  the  ten-year- 
old  Adelina  Patti ! 

"What  does  she  keep  in  her  throat?"  asked  a 
little  girl  near  her  own  age  —  adding  comfortably, 
"  Never  mind,  we  will  find  out  when  she  dies ! " 

Maurice  Strakosch  accompanied  her  on  a  square 
piano  placed  upon  the  floor,  the  platform  being  often 
too  narrow  to  admit  it.  He  played,  frequently  turn- 
ing his  face  to  the  audience,  nodding  and  smiling,  as 
if  to  say  :  — 

"  See  this  little  marvel  I  have  discovered  !  Is  she 
not  a  darling  ?  " 

The  midget  had  an  uncertain  temper  in  those  days. 
Travelling  once  in  the  same  car  with  a  lady  who  took 
her  fancy,  she  found  an  opportunity  to  free  her  mind 
of  her  opinion  of  her  troupe  :  Amalia  was  jealous  of 
her ;  Amalia  would  shake  and  pinch  her  behind  the 
scenes  if  the  audience  applauded  her ;  Strakosch  was 
utterly  horrid — just  observe  his  great  hands  !  Not 
for  worlds  would  she  sing  for  him  were  it  not  for  the 
sugar-plums ! 

At  the  end  of  the  journey  Strakosch  approached 
the  little  girl  and  held  out  his  hand  to  take  her  to 
her  sister. 


Adelina  Patti  and  Mrs.  Glasgow  33 

"  I  am  not  going  with  you,"  said  Adelina,  "  I  am 
going  home  with  this  lady." 

"  Ah,  but  impossible !  "  said  Strakosch. 

"  I  will !  "  said  the  small  rebel.  "  You  know  I 
always  do  things  when  I  say  c  I  will/  ' 

"  Why  not  ?  "  said  the  lady  (she  was  Mrs.  Glas- 
gow, the  lovely  mother  of  Ellen  Glasgow,  the  au- 
thoress). "  Why  not  ?  Let  her  come  with  me  !  I 
will  take  good  care  of  her." 

Strakosch  shrugged  his  shoulders.  A  scene  was 
imminent.  "  If  I  consent,  Adelina,"  he  said  at  last, 
"  will  you  be  sure  to  be  ready  when  I  come  for  you 
for  rehearsal  ?  Will  you  be  sure  to  sing  ?  " 

"  Will  you  be  sure  to  bring  me  back  ?  " 

"  Sure  —  I  promise." 

"How  much  candy?"  was  the  next  excited 
question. 

"  A  whole  pound." 

"  No  —  not  enough !  " 

"  Two  pounds,"  said  Strakosch,  glancing  around 
to  satisfy  himself  that  the  scene  attracted  admirers 
and  possible  concert  goers. 

"  Not  enough,"  persisted  Adelina,  shaking  her 
head. 

"  A  hatful !  "  cried  Strakosch,  and  won  the  day. 

Mrs.  Glasgow  devoted  herself  to  the  little  girl 
for  the  four  days  of  her  stay.  On  the  last  evening 
she  invited  ten  or  fifteen  child  neighbors  to  a  dolls' 
party  with  Adelina  Patti.  At  the  end  of  the  evening 
she  said  :  "  Now,  Adelina,  these  little  girls  have  been 
very  kind  to  you.  They  have  brought  you  lovely 
flowers  —  I  wish  you  to  sing  one  little  song  for  them." 


34  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

A  shrewd  look  possessed  the  tiny  face.  "  Sing  — 
for  —  them  I  Sing  without  money  !  Mais  non  !  J'ai 
toujours  beaucoup  des  fleurs." 

She  disappeared  for  a  while  from  public  view.  I  saw 
her  no  more  until  her  visit  to  Washington.  Later, 
if  I  may  anticipate,  during  Mr.  Buchanan's  admin- 
istration, she  made  her  debut  in  "  Lucia  di  Lammer- 
moor."  People  fought  for  seats  and  boxes.  Three 
rival  beauties  secured  the  three  best — tiny,  comfort- 
less stalls  —  at  ninety  dollars  each.  It  was  some- 
thing to  sNee  Miss  Harriet  Lane,  Mrs.  John  R. 
Thompson,  and  Mrs.  Stephen  A.  Douglas  in  those 
three  boxes  !  Each  was  filled  with  beautiful  women, 
and  the  Cabinet  officers  and  Senators  stood  behind. 

"  What  is  all  this  about  ?  "  asked  Judge  Douglas, 
the  "  Little  Giant." 

"  The  opera  follows  Scott's  c  Bride  of  Lammer- 
moor,'  "  I  gently  suggested. 

"  Whose  bride  was  she  ?  Where  did  she  live  ?  " 
asked  the  mighty  man,  the  famous  Senator  who  came 
so  near  being  President. 

"  I  doubt  whether  she  lived  at  all,"  I  told  him. 
"  She  is  a  creature  of  pure  imagination,  I'm  afraid." 

"Oh!"   said   the   Senator,  contemptuously,   and. 
gave  no  more  attention  to  the  stage  nor  to  the  divine 
artist  upon  it. 

As  I  had  come  to  Washington  from  Virginia, 
where  everybody's  great-grandfather  knew  my  great- 
grandfather, where  the  rules  of  etiquette  were  only 
those  of  courtesy  and  good  breeding,  I  had  many  a 
troubled  moment  in  my  early  Washington  life,  lest 
I  should  transgress  some  law  of  precedence,  etc.  I 


An  Old  Resident's  Advice  to  a  Young  Chaperon  35 

wisely  took  counsel  with  one  of  my  "  old  residents," 
and  she  gave  me  a  few  simple  rules  whereby  the 
young  chaperon  of  a  very  young  girl  might  be 
guided :  "My  dear,"  said  this  lady,  "  My  dear,  you 
know  you  cannot  always  have  your  husband  to 
attend  you.  It  will  be  altogether  proper  for  you 
to  go  with  your  sister  to  morning  and  afternoon 
receptions.  When  you  arrive,  send  for  the  host  or 
the  master  of  ceremonies,  and  he  will  take  you  in 
and  present  you.  Of  course,  your  husband  will 
take  you  to  balls  ;  if  he  is  busy,  you  simply  can- 
not go  !  I  think  you  would  do  well  to  make  a  rule 
never,  under  any  circumstances,  to  drive  in  men's 
carriages.  There  are  so  many  foreigners  here,  you 
must  be  careful.  They  never  bring  their  own  court 
manners  to  Washington.  They  take  their  cue  from 
the  people  they  meet.  If  you  are  high  and  haughty, 
they  will  be  high  and  haughty.  If  you  are  genially 
civil  but  reserved,  they  will  be  so.  If  you  talk 
personalities  in  a  free  and  easy  way,  they  will  spring 
some  audacious  piece  of  scandal  on  you,  and  the 
Lord  only  knows  where  they'll  end." 

Now,  it  so  happened  that  I  had  just  received  a 
request  from  a  Frenchman  who  had  brought  letters, 
to  be  allowed  to  escort  Madame  and  Mademoiselle  to 
a  fete  in  Georgetown.  We  were  to  drive  through 
the  avenue  of  blossoming  crab-apples,  and  rendez- 
vous at  a  spring  for  a  picnic.  I  forget  the  name  of 
our  hostess,  but  she  had  arranged  a  gay  festival, 
including  music  and  dancing  on  the  green.  I  had 
accepted  this  invitation  and  the  escort  of  M.  Raoul, 
and  received  a  note  from  him  asking  at  what  hour 


36  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

he  should  have  the  honor,  etc.,  and  I  immediately 
ran  home  and  wrote  that "  Madame  would  be  happy 
to  see  M.  Raoul  a  trois  heures" — and  that  Madame 
asked  the  privilege  of  using  her  own  horses,  etc.  I 
made  haste  to  engage  an  open  carriage  and  congratu- 
lated myself  on  my  clever  management. 

The  afternoon  was  delicious.  Monsieur  appeared 
on  the  moment,  and  we  waited  for  my  carriage. 
The  gay  equipages  of  other  members  of  the  party 
drove  up  and  waited  for  us.  Presently,  rattling 
down  the  street,  came  an  old  ramshackle  cc  night- 
hawk,"  bearing  the  mud-and-dust  scars  of  many 
journeys,  the  seats  ragged  and  tarnished,  raw-boned 
horses,  with  rat-eaten  manes  and  tails,  harness  tied 
with  rope,  —  the  only  redeeming  feature  the  old 
negro  on  the  box,  who,  despite  his  humiliating 
entourage^  had  the  air  of  a  gentleman. 

What  could  I  do  ?  There  was  nothing  to  be 
done ! 

Monsieur  handed  me  in  without  moving  a  muscle 
of  his  face,  handed  in  my  sister,  entered  himself,  and 
spoke  no  word  during  the  drive.  He  conducted  us 
gravely  to  the  place  of  rendezvous,  silently  and 
gravely  walked  around  the  grounds  with  us,  silently 
and  gravely  brought  us  home  again. 

I  grew  hot  and  cold  by  turns,  and  almost  shed 
tears  of  mortification.  I  made  no  apology — what 
could  I  say  ?  Arriving  at  my  own  door,  I  turned 
and  invited  my  escort  to  enter.  He  raised  his  hat 
and,  with  an  air  of  the  deepest  dejection,  dashed  with 
something  very  like  sarcastic  humility,  said  he 
trusted  Madame  had  enjoyed  the  afternoon  — 


Experience  with  the  Washington  Livery  Service    37 

thanked  her  for  the  honor  done  himself — and 
only  regretted  the  disappointment  of  the  French 
Minister,  the  Count  de  Sartiges,  at  not  having  been 
allowed  to  serve  Madame  with  his  own  state  coach, 
which  had  been  placed  at  his  disposal  for  Madame's 
pleasure ! 

As  he  turned  away  my  chagrin  was  such  I  came 
near  forgetting  to  give  my  coachman  his  little 
"  tip." 

I  began,  "  Oh,  Uncle,  how  could  you  ?  "  when  he 
interrupted :  "  Now,  Mistis,  don't  you  say  nothin'. 
I  knowed  dis  ole  fune'al  hack  warn't  fittin'  for  you, 
but  der  warn't  nar  another  kerridge  in  de  stable. 
De  boss  say,  *  Go  'Jong,  Jerry,  an*  git  'er  dar  ! '  — 
an'  I  done  done  it!  An'  I  done  fotch  'er  back, 
too  ! " 

I  never  saw  M.  Raoul  afterward.  There's  no 
use  crying  over  spilt  milk,  or  broken  eggs,  or 
French  monsieurs,  or  even  French  counts  and 
Ministers.  I  soon  left  for  Virginia,  and  to  be 
relieved  of  the  dread  of  meeting  M.  Raoul  softened 
my  regret  at  leaving  Washington. 


CHAPTER    III 

ADMINISTRATION    OF    PRESIDENT    BUCHANAN 

TWO  days  after  Mr.  Buchanan's  inauguration, 
the  nominations  for  the  Cabinet  were  sent 
to  the  Senate.  The  venerable  Lewis  Cass, 
with  many  years  of  honorable  service  behind  him, 
was  Secretary  of  State,  —  selected,  the  "  Old- Line 
Whigs"  said,  because  the  President  meant  really  to 
be  Secretary  of  State  himself,  and  he  wished  an  ami- 
able first  assistant.  Moreover,  he  liked  to  say  "  old 
Lewis  Cass,"  as  though  he  were  himself  so  much 
younger.  Hon.  Howell  Cobb  of  Georgia  had  the 
Treasury  Department.  He  was  a  man  of  political 
ability,  "  frank  and  genial,"  sagacious  and  conserva- 
tive, "  qualities  fitting  him  well  to  dominate  his 
associates."  Mr.  Floyd,  who  "  belonged  to  the  first 
families  of  Virginia,"  was  the  Secretary  of  War.  Mr. 
Toucey  of  Connecticut  was  Secretary  of  the  Navy, 
Mr.  Jacob  Thompson  of  Mississippi,  Secretary  of 
the  Interior,  Mr.  Brown  of  Tennessee,  Postmaster- 
General,  and  Judge  Jeremiah  Black,  Attorney- 
General, —  three  from  the  North,  four  from  the 
South.  The  new  Cabinet,  people  said,  was  far 
inferior  in  capacity  to  the  retiring  one. 

The  new  President  was  a  bachelor.     Despite  his 
years  and  his  cold,  reserved  manner,  his  fidelity  to 

38 


A  New  President  and  a  Gay  Capital        39 

the  memory  of  beautiful  Miss  Coleman,  to  whom  he 
had  been  affianced  in  his  youth,  invested  him  with 
the  interest  which  attaches  to  romance.  This  was 
enhanced  by  his  devotion  to  his  niece,  Miss  Harriet 
Lane.  In  her  affection  he  found  the  only  solace  of 
his  lonely  life.  For  her  sake  he  condescended  to 
unbend  in  public ;  and  to  brighten  the  atmosphere 
around  her,  he  sometimes  became  quite  a  jaunty  old 
bachelor.  She  was  his  confidante  in  all  matters 
political  and  personal.  A  stately  etiquette  ruled 
between  the  two.  She  was  always  addressed  as 
"  Miss  Harriet,"  and  to  her  he  was  "  The  Presi- 
dent " — never  "  Uncle  Buchanan,"  except  on  the  rare 
occasions  when  she  considered  it  worth  her  while  to 
coax  him  in  order  to  carry  a  point. 

Washington  was  never  gayer  than  during  this 
administration,  more  memorable  than  any  other 
except  Washington's  and  Lincoln's.  The  mighty 
giants  of  the  House  and  Senate  were  there,  the  men 
who  must  be  held  largely  responsible  for  that  most 
unnecessary,  cruel,  and  wicked  war  —  the  war  be- 
tween the  Northern  and  Southern  states  of  America. 
Washington  was  the  storm  centre,  charged  with  the 
electric  forces  so  soon  to  burst  in  fury  upon  the 
country. 

But  before  we  enter  upon  these  troubled  times, 
we  will  live  over  again  some  of  the  happy,  care- 
forgetting  months  of  our  life  in  Washington. 

My  husband  who  had  succeeded  Mr.  Ritchie  as 
one  of  the  editors  of  the  Richmond  Enquirer  was  now 
a  member  of  Congress.  He  had  accomplished  his 
mission  to  Greece  to  the  satisfaction  of  his  govern- 


40  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

ment  and  to  his  own  pleasure  and  profit.     With  a 

food  courier  and  a  generous  country  at  his  back,  he 
ad  traversed  Europe,  had  seen  Venice  rise  from 
the  sea,  had  revelled  in  the  grandeur  that  was  —  and 
is —  Rome,  had  beheld  the  mosques  and  minarets  of 
the  Byzantine  city  from  the  waters  of  the  Golden 
Horn,  had  looked  into  the  inscrutable  eyes  of  the 
Sphinx,  and  had  finally  taken  up  his  abode  under 
the  shadow  of  the  Acropolis.  There  he  had  met  the 
"  Maid  of  Athens,"  now  stout,  middle-aged  Mrs. 
Black,  so  the  poor  American  Minister,  who  was 
young  and  romantic, — in  order  to  understand  the 
passionate  entreaty  of  Byron  to  return  the  wandering 
heart  of  him  or  else  take  the  rest  of  him,  —  was  con- 
strained to  think  of  the  poem,  and  look  the  while  at 
a  dark-eyed  Greek  beauty  named  "  Elpis  "  —  at  least 
this  was  the  explanation  made  to  me  of  his  frequent 
allusions  in  his  letters  to  the  latter.  There,  too,  he 
had  charmed  Queen  Mathilde  with  a  description  of 
the  night-blooming  cereus  of  this  country  and  had 
stricken  the  court  of  King  Otho  dumb  with  amaze- 
ment by  outrageous  American  boasting. 

"  Kindly  tell  us,  your  Excellency,"  inquired  the 
king  at  a  state  banquet,  "what  subject  most  inter- 
ests your  country  at  the  present  moment." 

"  The  problem,  may  it  please  your  Majesty,  of 
how  we  shall  govern  our  superfluous  territory  and 
invest  our  superfluous  treasure." 

This  may  not  have  pleased  his  Majesty,  but  it 
certainly  astounded  him.  Little  Greece  was,  at  the 
moment,  hemmed  in  by  organized  bands  of  brigands 
and  sorely  pressed  for  the  means  of  existence. 


Incidents  attending  Special  Mission  to  Greece     41 

Our  envoy  had  the  honor,  too,  of  attending,  with 
Madame  le  Vert,  the  ball  at  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  and  of 
witnessing  the  opening  quadrille,  danced  by  Victoria 
and  Albert,  Louis  Napoleon  and  his  sister  Ma- 
thilde,  the  empress  being  ill.  Both  queen  and 
princess  seemed  young  and  happy,  both  attired  in 
white  satin  flounced  with  point  lace,  and  wearing  a 
prince's  ransom  in  jewels. 

The  weather  was  fearfully  hot,  and  the  royal 
party  danced  but  once.  The  queen  did  not  step  a 
stately  measure,  dancing  "  high  and  disposedly  "  ; 
—  but  she  entered  into  the  spirit  of  the  hour 
heartily,  and,  although  the  mother  of  eight  chil- 
dren, danced  with  the  glee  of  a  young  girl,  growing 
withal  very  red  in  the  face  like  any  ordinary  mortal. 

At  one  of  the  gala  days  of  the  Exposition  in 
Paris,  a  very  large  woman  attracted  much  atten- 
tion. She  was  neither  young  nor  handsome,  but 
had  a  comfortable,  well-to-do  air  of  content.  A 
profusion  of  light  curls  clustered  around  her  rotund 
face.  These  ringlets  were  all  that  was  left  of  the 
beauty  of  the  Countess  Guiccioli !  Alas,  there  was 
no  "  Elpis "  at  hand  for  consolation.  All  these 
things  and  more  would  have  appeared  in  a  charming 
volume  but  for  the  secession  of  South  Carolina,  as 
will  be  seen  later  on  in  my  story. 

I  never  regretted  the  loss  of  this  beautiful  oppor- 
tunity in  my  life.  My  mother  had  been  nursed  back 
to  bless  me  and  mine  a  few  years  longer.  Moreover, 
I  found  myself  enriched.  I  had  pictures,  ravishing 
pictures,  Raphael's  "  Belle  Jardiniere,"  a  priceless 
Raffaello  Morghen's  proof  impression  of  the  "  Ma- 


42  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

donna  della  Seggiola,"  Guide's  "Aurora"  with  its 
glorious  women  —  the  most  glorious  being  (if  she 
would  only  turn  around)  the  one  with  her  back 
to  the  world.  I  had  many  others,  Titian,  Domeni- 
chino,  Murillo,  Leonardo  da  Vinci.  I  had  amber 
from  Constantinople,  curios  and  antiques  from 
Egypt,  corals  and  cameos  from  Naples  and  Flor- 
ence, silks  from  Broussa  (afterward  swallowed  up 
by  an  earthquake),  silks  and  velvets  from  Lyons, 
laces  from  Brussels,  perfumes  from  the  land  of 
Araby  the  blest,  —  things  mightily  consoling  to  a 
woman  in  her  early  twenties. 

We  found  a  large  house  on  New  York  Avenue 
and  filled  it  with  good  Virginia  servants.  Admon- 
ished by  experience,  we  secured  horses  and  a  care- 
ful coachman. 

We  had  come  to  stay  !  My  husband  represented 
the  old  district  of  his  kinsman,  John  Randolph  of 
Roanoke,  and  his  constituents  were  devoted  to  him. 
They  would  never  supplant  him  with  another.  Of 
that  we  might  be  sure.  God  granting  life  and 
health,  we  were  going  to  be  happy  young  people. 

The  market  in  Washington  was  abundantly 
supplied  with  the  finest  game  and  fish  from  the 
Eastern  Shore  of  Maryland  and  Virginia,  and  the 
waters  of  the  Potomac.  Brant,  ruddy  duck,  can- 
vasback  duck,  sora,  oysters,  and  terrapin  were 
within  the  reach  of  any  housekeeper.  Oysters, 
to  be  opened  at  a  moment's  notice,  were  planted 
on  the  cellar  floors,  and  fed  with  salt  water,  and  the 
cellars,  as  far  as  the  mistress  was  concerned,  were 
protected  from  invasion  by  the  large  terrapins  kept 


Early  Housekeeping  in  Washington         43 

there  —  a  most  efficient  police  force,  crawling  about 
with  their  outstretched  necks  and  wicked  eyes. 

Such  dainties  demanded  expert  cooking.  We 
found  in  our  house  a  portly  family  servant,  "  Aunt 
Susan,"  who  had  been  left  as  caretaker  with  permis- 
sion to  remain  or  not  as  the  new  tenant  should 
please,  or  as  she  herself  should  please.  I  fell  in 
love  with  her  on  sight  and  found  her  willing  to 
engage  with  me. 

"  Can  you  cook,  Aunt  Susan  ? "  I  imprudently 
inquired. 

"  No'm,  I  don't  call  myself  a  cook,  but  I  know  a 
hogfish  from  a  yellow-bellied  perch,  and  a  canvas- 
back  duck  from  a  redhead.  I  could  cook  oysters 
to  suit  my  own  white  folks." 

We  had  brought  with  us  a  number  of  servants 
who  had  lived  with  us  in  Virginia,  They  were  free. 
We  never  owned  slaves ;  this  one  free  family  had 
served  us  always. 

A  serious  difficulty  immediately  arose  in  the 
kitchen.  Susan  felt  her  dignity  insulted.  She 
had  supposed  I  would  bring  "gentlefolks'  servants 
from  the  Eastern  Sho'."  She  had  not  "  counted  on 
free  niggers  to  put  on  airs  an'  boss  her  in  her  own 
kitchen." 

My  Virginia  servants  protested  absolute  humility 
and  innocence.  But  that  was  not  all.  A  French 
woman,  Adele  Riviere,  was  sewing  in  the  nursery, 
and  an  Englishman,  George  Boyd,  was  coachman. 
Susan  wanted  "  only  one  mistress,"  she  had  "  not 
counted  on  working  for  furriners.  By  the  time  she 
had  pleased  that  Frenchwoman  and  Englishman  and 


44  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

them  free  niggers"  she  "wouldn't  have  enough 
sperrit  left  to  wipe  her  foot  on  the  door-mat." 

A  compromise  was  effected,  however.  Susan 
was  to  be  queen  on  her  own  premises ;  and  if  she 
must  occasionally  "  put  on  airs  "  herself  and  "  boss  " 
somebody,  why  she  might  always  "  boss  "  me. 

"  I  think,"  said  my  friend  Agnes,  "  you  have  very 
neatly  arranged  to  have  as  much  trouble  as  possible. 
The  question  of  caste  will  crop  up  every  hour  of  the 
day.  If  the  worst  comes  to  the  worst,  let  them  aM. 
go  except  Susan !  Harriet  Martineau  gives  fine 
advice,  for  an  old  maid :  c  Never  nag  your  servants 
—  but  if  occasion  demands,  come  down  upon  them 
like  the  day  of  judgment.' ' 

"  I  stand  by  Susan,"  I  assured  her, "  whatever  she 
does.  I  am  dreadfully  opposed  to  capital  punish- 
ment, but  if  anybody  kills  a  cook,  he  needn't  bring 
his  case  to  our  office." 

Susan  had  offended,  by  her  assumption  of  superi- 
ority, all  the  members  of  my  household  except  my- 
self, to  whom  she  was  most  kind  and  respectful. 
The  boy  James  had  been  brought  by  his  aunts,  who 
promised  to  train  him  for  my  service.  He  soon 
developed  an  ingenuity  in  teasing  the  cook  amount- 
ing to  inspiration.  Matters  between  them  reached 
a  crisis  one  morning.  I  was  reading  my  paper  in 
the  office  adjoining  the  breakfast-room  when  I  heard 
Susan's  raucous  voice :  "  What  do  you  mean  com- 
ing in  this  kitchen  hollerin'  out  c  Susan,  Susan '  ? 
Whar's  your  manners  ?  " 

"I  loant 'em  to  de  cook  dis  mornin',  Susan  — 
leastways  Miss  Moss !  I  always  disremembers  yo' 
entitlements." 


A  Question  of  Caste  45 

"  Well,  you  just  get  out  of  this  kitchen  !  I  can 
send  breakfast  up  on  the  dumb  waiter.  You  stay 
in  your  own  place." 

"  I  kin  make  myse'f  skase,  Miss  Moss,  but  dat 
ain't  de  pint.  Cose  de  dumb  waiter  can't  talk,  an*  I 
has  to  speak  about  clean  plates  an'  —  " 

"  Get  out  o'  here,  I  tell  you.  Clean,  indeed  !  And 
your  face  not  washed  this  morning !  An'  you  all 
pizened  up  with  scent  like  —  " 

"  Lawd,  Miss  Moss  !  Dont  say  what  I'se  like  ! 
An*  what  I  gwine  fling  water  in  my  face  for  ?  I  ain' 
no  house  afire." 

In  a  few  minutes  Susan,  her  ample  figure  endowed 
with  a  fresh  white  apron,  and  her  bandanna  turban 
tied  to  a  nicety,  presented  herself,  dropped  a  courtesy, 
and  said  with  perfect  politeness  :  — 

"  Honey,  I  hate  to  worry  you,  but  I'm  afraid  the 
time  has  come  when  you  must  choose  between  me 
and  the  free  nigger.  I  think  too  much  of  myself 
to  mind  his  impudence,  but  everything  smells  and 
tastes  of  his  strong  scents — which  I  know  will  never 
suit  you  nor  the  master.  I,  for  one,  can't  stand 
'em." 

"  Then  James  must  leave  at  once,"  said  I,  firmly. 
"He  knows  the  perfume  is  forbidden,  and  I  have 
myself  heard  his  disrespectful  language  to  you." 

But  James  had  no  idea  of  leaving  Washington 
and  returning  to  the  position  of  knife-cleaner  in  the 
Petersburg  hotel,  whence  I  had  taken  him.  He 
experienced  a  total  change  of  heart.  He  surrendered 
in  magnificent  style.  I  was  too  skilful  a  general  not 
to  press  my  advantage.  Then  and  there  I  confis- 


46  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

cated  his  entire  stock  of  spurious  attar  of  rose.  It 
could  not  be  buried,  because  the  court  was  paved ; 
it  could  not  be  emptied  in  the  waste-water  pipes,  lest 
we  remember  it  forever ;  but  I  opened  the  doors  of 
Susan's  kitchen  range,  and  laid  it,  a  burnt-offering 
to  her  offended  dignity,  upon  the  glowing  coals. 
I  then  went  calmly  in  to  my  coffee,  which  had  a 
distinctly  Oriental  flavor  that  morning. 

Things  went  smoothly  after  this.  The  prevailing 
spirit  of  secession  found  its  way  only  as  far  as  the 
nursery,  when  pretty  Adele  Riviere  entered  a  con- 
vent (with  but  one  expressed  regret,  that  the  bonnets 
were  so  unbecoming),  and  a  dear  little  genius,  Annie 
Powers,  took  her  place,  —  coming  regularly  for  fifty 
cents  a  day,  and  making  me  independent  of  the  elu- 
sive dressmakers  who  lorded  and  queened  it  over 
my  unhappy  friends. 

And  just  here  I  feel  constrained  to  apologize  to 
my  friend  who  has,  at  this  moment,  this  page  before 
him,  for  recording  so  many  trifling  incidents ;  but  in 
painting  a  faithful  picture  of  any  time,  the  little  lights 
and  shadows  cannot  be  left  out.  Nothing  is  unim- 
portant. Even 

"  To  the  God  that  maketh  all 
There  is  no  great  —  there  is  no  small," 

words  which  I  quote  with  no  fear  of  being  deemed 
irreverent ;  since  the  couplet  has  been  discovered  by 
a  sojourner  in  the  Orient  to  have  been  a  petty  larceny 
of  Emerson's  from  the  book  of  a  Brahmin,  and  is  not 
a  quotation  from  the  pen  of  inspiration,  as  we  un- 
derstand inspiration. 


CHAPTER   IV 

SOCIAL    LIFE    DURING    BUCHANAN^    ADMINISTRATION 

WE  attended  Dr.  Gurley's  church  and  found 
that  the  President  also  had  taken  a  seat 
in  that  church.  Our  own  was  near  the 
door,  and  for  many  Sundays  before  I  knew  him, 
I  was  interested  in  seeing  him  enter  the  church  and 
walk  briskly  up  to  his  pew  near  the  pulpit  (while 
the  bell  was  ringing),  buttoned  in  his  broadcloth 
coat,  wearing  no  overcoat  in  the  coldest  weather. 
Immediately  after  the  benediction  he  would  walk 
rapidly  down  the  aisle,  the  congregation  standing 
until  he  passed.  Miss  Lane  attended  St.  John's 
Church,  and  the  President  was  accompanied  only  by 
his  secretary,  Mr.  Buchanan  Henry.  After  I  knew 
him  quite  well,  I  always  spoke  to  him  when  he 
passed  me  near  the  door,  and  I  sometimes  ventured, 
"  A  good  sermon,  Mr.  President ! "  he  never  fail- 
ing to  reply,  "  Too  long,  Madam,  too  long." 

I  was  leading  a  very  happy  domestic  life,  busy 
with  my  little  boys  and  my  housekeeping,  proud  of 
my  self-constituted  office  as  my  Congressman's  pri- 
vate secretary,  much  exercised  in  sending  documents, 
seeds,  and  cuttings  (we  were  introducing  tea-culture 
in  Virginia)  to  his  constituents,  when  I  was  called  to 

47 


48  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

order  by  our  dear  old  friend,  Mr.  Dudley  Mann, 
an  old  politician,  diplomat,  and  "  society  man." 

"  Madam,  did  you  come  to  Washington  to  live 
in  your  own  house  and  write  letters  to  farmers  ? " 

"  What  better  could  I  do  ?  " 

"  The  President  does  not  agree  with  you.  He 
admires  your  husband  and  wonders  why  you  were 
not  at  the  Levee.  He  has  asked  me  to  see  that  you 
come  to  the  next  one." 

"  I  shall  be  on  a  committee  that  night,"  said  my 
Congressman,  hastily,  —  he  was  usually  on  a  com- 
mittee when  a  reception  was  to  the  fore. 

"  I  will  take  her  myself,"  said  Mr.  Mann.  "  Now, 
wear  a  pretty  evening  dress  of  silk  or  velvet.  Can 
it  be  lavender?  And  I  will  call  precisely  at  nine." 

I  appreciated  the  honor  of  Mr.  Mann's  escort, 
and,  wishing  to  please  him,  procured  the  lavender 
silk.  Our  evening  gowns  were  cut  straight  across 
the  neck,  and  finished  with  a  bertha  of  lace.  The 
full  skirt  was  distended  over  a  large  hoop.  An 
elaborate  headdress  of  flowers  or  marabout  feathers 
was  de  rigueur  for  a  levee,  which,  however,  demanded 
simpler  attire  than  a  ball  or  a  dinner.  Our  white 
gloves  were  short  and  were  finished  at  the  wrist  with 
a  fall  of  lace  three  or  four  inches  wide,  and  a  band  of 
ribbon  and  rosette. 

Mr.  Mann  approved  my  attire  and  gave  me  a 
very  good  time.  The  crowd  was  great  and  the 
amplitude  and  length  of  the  ladies'  robes  filled  me 
with  anxiety. 

"  Dear  Mr.  Mann,"  I  said,  "  pray  be  careful  not  to 
tread  on  the  trains." 


Levee  at  the  White   House 


49 


"  My  child,"  he  answered,  "  I  haven't  lifted  my 
feet  for  twenty  years  !  " 

The  President  detained  us  for  a  few  courteous 
words,  and  we  were  passed  on  to  Miss  Lane,  stand- 
ing, not  beside  him,  but  in  a  group  with  other  ladies. 
Thence  we  found  our  way  to  the  East  Room,  and  a 
great  many  ladies  and  gentlemen  were  introduced 
to  me,  as  I  stood  on  the  arm  of  my  courtly  escort. 

Such  a  number  of  cards  came  to  us  after  this  that 
the  housekeeping,  the  writing,  the  little  boys,  the 
seeds,  and  the  tea-culture  in  Virginia  were  likely  to 
suffer. 

The  reign  of  the  "afternoon  tea"  was  not  yet  — 
at  least  not  in  Washington ;  but  entertainments 
included  morning  receptions,  evening  receptions, 
dinners,  musicales,  children's  parties,  old-fashioned 
evening  parties  with  music  and  supper,  and  splendid 
balls.  So  many  of  these  were  crowded  into  a  season 
that  we  often  attended  three  balls  in  one  evening. 

The  first  time  I  dined  with  the  President  I  made 
early  and  elaborate  preparation.  When  the  great 
day  arrived,  all  my  paraphernalia,  rosetted  slippers, 
gloves,  fan,  dress,  and  wrap  were  duly  laid  out  on 
my  bed  and  sofa.  In  the  evening  I  seated  myself 
at  a  dressing  table  and  submitted  my  head  to  Fran- 
9015'  hands.  The  evening  coiffure  was  elaborate  and 
troublesome.  The  hair  in  front  was  stiffened  with 
bandoline,  and  formed  into  sleek,  smooth  bandeaux, 
framing  the  face.  Behind,  all  the  hair  was  tightly 
tied,  low  at  the  nape  of  the  neck,  then  divided  into 
two  parts,  and  each  woven  with  many  strands  into 
a  wide  braid.  These  were  curved  from  ear  to  ear 


50  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

to  form  a  basket,  and  within  the  basket  were  roses, 
or  pond-lilies,  or  violets,  with  long  trailing  vines 
floating  behind. 

Fran9ois  was  a  very  agreeable  talker.  He  had 
dressed  Rachel's  hair  and  was  leisurely  giving  a 
charming  lecture  on  Rachel's  art.  Suddenly  my 
husband  burst  in  :  "  The  carriage  is  at  the  door ! 
Hurry,  hurry  !  We've  only  ten  minutes  to  reach 
the  White  House." 

I  literally  leaped  into  my  gown,  had  no  time  for 
flowers  or  jewels,  snatched  up  my  gloves,  left  every- 
thing else,  and  ran  !  We  entered  the  green  room 
just  as  Mr.  Buchanan  Henry  was  arranging  the 
guests  for  dinner.  Luckily  I  was  low  down  on  his 
list. 

I  was  miserably  heated,  and  very  uncomfortable 
lest  I  should  not  be  able  to  conceal  my  Congress 
gaiters,  having  had  no  time  to  change  them.  My 
gloves  were  on,  but  not  buttoned.  To  add  to  my 
misfortunes  I  found  I  was  to  be  taken  in  by  a 
Southern  Congressman  who  was  already  —  well,  not 
exactly  himself.  To  my  horror  he  winked  at  Miss 
Lane  when  he  drank  wine  with  her.  When  a  side 
dish  was  handed,  he  said  audibly :  £C  Now  look  here, 
Joe  !  Is  that  the  same  old  thing  you  gave  me  here 
last  year?  Because  if  it  is,  I  don't  want  any  of  it." 
After  we  returned  to  the  parlor  I  confided  my  mis- 
eries to  the  lady  who  had  been  placed  next  him  at 
dinner,  and  she  reassured  me  :  "  Oh,  that's  nothing  ! 
Such  things  happen  here  any  day  —  nobody  notices 
these  people  from  the  rural  districts." 

This    was    worse    than    the    ramshackle  carriage. 


State  Dinners  at  the  White  House          51 

Could  I  bear  to  be  classed  with  "  people  from  the 
rural  districts  ?  "  I  was  never  a  moment  late  after- 
ward. 

Dinners  at  the  White  House  were  much  less  elab- 
orate in  their  appointments  than  were  dinners  at  the 
homes  of  the  wealthy  Cabinet  officers  and  Senators. 
Mr.  Buchanan  set  an  example  of  Republican  sim- 
plicity. Few  flowers  were  placed  in  the  drawing 
rooms.  In  the  centre  of  the  Blue  Room  there  was 
a  divan  surrounding  a  stand  of  potted  plants  and 
surmounted  by  a  small  palm.  The  dinner  table 
was  not  ornamented  with  flowers,  nor  were  bouquets 
at  the  covers.  A  long  plateau,  a  mirror  edged 
with  a  hunting  scene  (gilt  figures  in  high  relief),  ex- 
tended down  the  middle,  and  from  the  centre  and  at 
the  two  ends  rose  epergnes  with  small  crystal  dishes 
for  bonbons  and  cakes. 

One  evening  the  President  said  to  me,  "  Madam, 
what  is  this  small  shrub  I  find  always  placed  before 
me?" 

"  If  the  berries  were  white,  Mr.  President,  it  would 
be  Ardisia  alba." 

"  Ah,"  he  answered, "  I  am  all  right !  My  berries 
are  red  —  I  have' Ardisia  rufa!J  Miss  Harriet 
has  the  alba  !  " 

There  were  no  other  floral  decorations  on  the 
table. 

I  once  ventured  to  send  the  President  a  Virginia 
ham,  with  particular  directions  for  cooking  it.  It 
was  to  be  soaked,  boiled  gently  three  or  four  hours, 
suffered  to  get  cold  in  its  own  juices,  and  then  toasted. 

This  would  seem  simple  enough,  but  the  execu- 


52  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

tive  cook  disdained  it,  perhaps  for  the  reason  that  it 
was  so  simple.  The  dish,  a  shapeless,  jellylike  mass, 
was  placed  before  the  President.  He  took  his  knife 
and  fork  in  hand  to  honor  the  dish  by  carving  it 
himself,  looked  at  it  helplessly,  and  called  out  — 
"  Take  it  away  !  Take  it  away  !  Oh,  Miss  Harriet ! 
You  are  a  poor  housekeeper !  Not  even  a  Virginia 
lady  can  teach  you." 

The  glass  dishes  of  the  epergne  contained  wonder- 
ful "  French  kisses  "  —  two-inch  squares  of  crystal- 
lized sugar  wrapped  in  silver  paper,  and  elaborately 
decorated  with  lace  and  artificial  flowers.  I  was 
very  proud  at  one  dinner  when  the  President  said 
to  me,  "  Madam,  I  am  sending  you  a  souvenir  for 
your  little  daughter,"  and  a  waiter  handed  me  one 
of  those  gorgeous  affairs.  He  had  questioned  me 
about  my  boys,  and  I  had  told  him  of  my  daughter 
Gordon,  eight  years  old,  who  lived  with  her  grand- 
mother. "  You  must  bring  her  to  see  Miss  Harriet," 
he  had  said  —  which,  in  due  season,  I  did  ;  an  event, 
with  its  crowning  glory  of  a  checked  silk  dress,  white 
hat  and  feather,  which  she  proudly  remembers  to 
this  day.  Having  been  duly  presented  at  court, 
the  little  lady  was  much  "  in  society  "  and  accom- 
panied me  to  many  brilliant  afternoon  functions. 

She  was  a  thoughtful  listener  to  the  talk  in  her 
father's  library,  and  once  when  an  old  politician 
spoke  sadly  of  a  possible  rupture  of  the  United 
States,  surprised  and  delighted  him  by  slipping  her 
hand  in  his  and  saying,  "  never  mind !  United  will 
spell  Untied  just  as  well"  —  a  little  mot  which  was 
remembered  and  repeated  long  afterwards. 


Miss  Harriet  Lane  53 

Mr.  Buchanan's  kind  notice  of  her  is  gratefully 
recollected.  It  was  said  that  he  was  influenced  by 
the  Southern  Senators  and  Representatives.  I  only 
know  he  was  most  kind  to  us,  and  I  refuse  to  be- 
lieve we  were  of  consequence  enough  to  make  this 
kindness  a  matter  of  policy.  I  would  fain  think  he 
really  liked  us,  really  desired  to  add  to  our  happiness. 

It  cannot  be  said  that  his  niece,  Miss  Harriet 
Lane,  although  universally  admired,  was  a  popular 
woman.  She  lacked  magnetism.  She  followed  a 
prescribed  rule  of  manner  from  which  she  never 
deviated,  no  matter  with  whom  she  was  thrown. 
This  was,  perhaps,  fortunate.  Always  courteous, 
always  in  place,  silent  whenever  it  was  possible  to 
be  silent,  watchful,  and  careful,  she  made  no  enemies, 
was  betrayed  into  no  entangling  alliances,  and  was  in- 
volved in  no  contretemps  of  any  kind. 

She  was  very  handsome,  a  fair,  blue-eyed,  self- 
contained  young  woman.  She  was  dignified  —  as 
indeed  all  women  had  to  be,  in  gesture  at  least, 
when  they  wore  great  hoops  !  The  "  curtsy  "  was  a 
perilous  duty.  "  How  does  she  doit?  She  never 
makes  a  cheese  of  herself,"  said  one,  looking  on  at 
a  morning  reception.  Miss  Lane's  courtesy  was  the 
perfection  of  deference  and  grace.  And  she  had 
exquisite  taste  in  dress.  She  never  wore  many  orna- 
ments, many  flowers,  nor  the  billows  of  ruffles  then  in 
fashion.  I  remember  her  in  white  tulle,  with  a 
wreath  of  clematis ;  in  soft  brown  or  blue  silk ;  in 
much  white  muslin,  dotted  and  plain,  with  blue 
ribbons  run  in  puffs  on  skirt  and  bodice. 

She  was  very  affable  and  agreeable,  in  an  unemo- 


54  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

tional  way  —  the  proper  manner,  of  course,  for  her. 
I  imagine  no  one  could  take  a  liberty  with  her  then, 
but  I  risked  the  experiment  some  years  ago  when 
we  spent  a  summer  together  at  Bar  Harbor.  A 
handsome  widow,  with  silver  hair,  she  was  even 
more  distingue  than  she  had  been  in  the  White 
House.  I  recalled,  to  her  genuine  amusement,  twc 
incidents  of  her  life  there.  When  she  took  her 
place  as  mistress  of  the  Executive  Mansion,  the 
President  had  given  her  but  one  rule  for  her  con- 
duct :  never  under  any  circumstances  to  accept  a 
present.  "  Think  of  my  feelings,"  she  had  said  to 
me,  "when  the  lovely  lacquered  boxes  and  tables 
the  Japanese  Embassy  brought  me  were  turned  from 
the  door,  to  say  nothing  of  the  music-boxes  and 
these  fascinating  sewing-machines  they  have  just 
invented." 

A  party  was  once  made  up  for  a  visit  to  Mount 
Vernon.  Mr.  Augustus  Schell  of  New  York  accom- 
panied Miss  Lane.  He  was  a  fine-looking  fellow  and 
very  much  in  love  with  her.  As  they  walked  along 
the  banks  of  the  Potomac,  she  picked  up  a  handful 
of  colored  pebbles.  Mr.  Schell  requested  them  of 
her  and  put  them  in  his  pocket.  He  took  them  to 
Tiffany,  had  them  beautifully  polished,  set  with 
diamonds,  and  linked  together  in  a  bracelet,  and 
sent  them  as  "  a  souvenir  of  Mount  Vernon  "  to  Miss 
Lane  for  a  Christmas  gift. 

She  carried  them  for  a  week  in  her  pocket,  trying  to 
get  her  own  consent  to  give  them  up.  The  more  she 
looked  at  them  the  better  she  liked  them.  One  day 
the  President  was  in  fine  spirits.  He  liked  to  rally 


Miss  Harriet  Lane  55 

her  about  Lord  Lyons,  which  she  did  not  fancy 
overmuch.  But  this  time  she  humored  him,  and  at 
last  ventured  to  say,  "  Uncle  Buchanan,  if  I  have 
a  few  pretty  pebbles  given  me,  you  do  not  object  to 
my  accepting  them  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  Miss  Harriet !  Keep  your  pebbles  ! 
Keep  your  pebbles,"  he  exclaimed,  in  high  good 
humor. 

"  You  know,"  Miss  Lane  said,  in  telling  me  the 
story  at  the  time,  "  diamonds  are  pebbles." 

There  was  an  impression  that  she  never  conde- 
scended to  the  role  of  a  coquette,  but  I  could  testify 
to  the  contrary. 

Mr.  Porcher  Miles,  Congressman  from  South 
Carolina,  was  one  of  her  train  of  devoted  admirers. 
He  accompanied  me  once  to  an  evening  reception 
at  the  White  House.  Miss  Lane  stood  in  front  of 
the  flower-trimmed  divan  in  the  Blue  Room.  Mr. 
Miles  and  I  paid  our  respects,  lingered  awhile,  and, 
having  other  engagements,  sent  for  our  carriage. 

As  we  stood  at  the  door  waiting,  he  talked  of 
Miss  Lane's  beauty  and  charm  —  "Look  at  her 
where  she  stands  !  Is  she  not  the  personification  of 
a  high-bred  lady  from  head  to  foot  ? " 

Miss  Lane  perceived  we  were  talking  about  her, 
—  and  while  she  gave  her  right  hand  to  the  arriving 
guests  she  passed  her  left  behind  her  and  plucked  a 
spray  of  mignonette.  We  saw  her  beckon  a  servant, 
who  immediately  found  us,  and  gave  the  flowers  to 
Mr.  Miles,  "  with  Miss  Lane's  compliments." 

I  repeated  these  two  little  stories  to  her  when  her 
head  was  silvered,  —  less  by  age  than  by  sorrow, — 


56  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

and  awoke  one  of  those  rare  moonlight  smiles  which 
her  friends  remember  so  well. 

No  one  who  observed  Mr.  Buchanan  could  faii 
to  perceive  the  rapid  change  in  him  after  he  became 
President.  Having  committed  himself  to  the  policy 
of  rotation  in  office,  he  was  overwhelmed  with  the 
persistence  of  place  hunters.  "  They  giv-e  me  no 
time  to  say  my  prayers,"  he  complained.  They 
exhausted  him  in  listening  to  their  petty  interests 
at  a  time  when  the  most  important  problems  that 
ever  confronted  the  head  of  the  nation  clamored  for 
his  consideration. 

Toward  the  last,  when  the  older  men  almost  gave 
up  hope,  his  only  prayer  was  that  the  catastrophe  of 
conflict  might  not  come  in  his  day.  He  cannot  be 
blamed  above  others  for  hesitation,  vacillation.  The 
problems  were  too  mighty  for  one  man's  wisdom, 
too  mighty  for  the  collective  wisdom  of  many. 

Lord  and  Lady  Napier  were  interesting  members 
of  Washington  society.  They  occupied  the  house 
built  by  Admiral  Porter  on  H  Street,  near  Fourteenth, 
now  the  residence  of  the  French  Embassy.  They 
had  succeeded  Mr.  Crampton,  and  were  themselves 
succeeded  in  1859  by  Lord  Lyons  —  so  we  had 
three  British  Ministers  within  a  few  years.  Lord 
and  Lady  Napier  gave  delightful  entertainments  — 
dinners,  musicales,  receptions,  evening  parties.  My 
Lady  was  more  admired  than  were  any  of  her  prede- 
cessors. She  was  lovely  in  person,  gentle,  cultivated, 
most  affable  and  approachable.  At  her  receptions, 
and  even  at  her  balls,  her  sons,  charming  boys  of  ten 
and  twelve,  were  always  present  to  help  her  receive 


Ball  in  Honor  of  Lord  and  Lady  Napier     57 

her  guests.  Everything  she  did,  everything  she  said, 
seemed  wisest,  virtuousest,  discreetest,  best.  We 
have  had  no  representative  from  the  court  of  St. 
James  who  did  so  much  for  the  entertainment  of 
our  own  people  as  Lord  and  Lady  Napier. 

They  gave  a  splendid  ball  in  1858  in  honor  of 
the  queen's  birthday.  Lady  Napier  was  superb  in 
a  tiara  of  diamonds  and  emeralds.  Lord  Napier 
and  all  the  foreign  Ministers  shone  forth  in  all  the 
splendor  of  court  dress  ;  and  everybody  must  con- 
cede—  Mr.  Marcy  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding 
—  that  the  glitter  of  gold  lace  and  gems,  the  dis- 
tinction of  orders,  the  imperial  stars  and  decorations, 
do  add  to  the  interest  of  such  an  occasion.  They 
mean  much.  They  mean  honor  achieved,  services 
recognized. 

A  recording  Jenkins  of  this  ball  dilates  upon  the 
elegance  of  the  supper,  "  this  vista  of  gold  and  silver 
plate  and  the  more  than  epicurean  daintiness  of  the 
delicacies,  the  age  and  vintage  of  the  wines." 

The  most  interesting  ball  of  the  season  was  that 
given  by  the  Senators  and  Representatives  to  Lord 
and  Lady  Napier  just  before  they  returned  to 
England. 

We  were  early  arrivals  at  this  ball,  because  we 
wished  to  see  the  sanded  floor  of  the  ball  room, 
representing  in  colors  St.  George  and  the  Dragon, 
before  it  should  be  effaced  by  the  dancers. 

Lord  and  Lady  Napier  were  seated  on  a  dais  at 
the  head  of  the  room,  and  we  passed  in  review 
before  them.  Lady  Napier  was  attired  in  rich 
white  satin,  embroidered  with  pearls,  with  a  close 


58  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

"  Juliet  cap  "  of  pearls  on  her  hair.  No  lofty  throne 
could  make  her  less  gracious  than  was  her  wont. 

Dion  Boucicault  gave  me  his  arm  at  the  door,  and 
after  our  obeisance  walked  around  the  room  to  show 
me  the  portraits  and  paintings.  On  the  right  of 
Lord  and  Lady  Napier  was  a  full-length  portrait  of 
young  Victoria  in  her  ermine  robe  and  crown,  and 
on  the  left,  one  of  Washington.  "  Alas,  alas,"  said 
Mr.  Boucicault,  cc  that  so  great  a  man  should  have 
been  painted  with  cramp  in  his  fingers  !  "  My  escort 
was  altogether  charming.  I  discovered  he  was  "  put- 
ting in  time  "  with  me,  for  presently  here  came  little 
Agnes  Robertson,  just  from  the  theatre,  where  she 
had  been  playing  in  the  "  Siege  of  Lucknow,"  and  I 
lost  Mr.  Boucicault !  He  married  her  soon  after- 
ward. And  afterward!  Ah,  well!  That  is  none 
of  the  business  of  this  story. 

When  we  entered  the  banquet  hall,  Lady  Napier's 
exclamations  were  enthusiastic.  "Look,  George," 
she  cried,  "  there  is  the  knight  and  his  dragon  again 
—  all  in  sugar !  And  here  are  the  English  arms 
and  —  oh,  George  !  here  are  our  own  arms  !  "  Gau- 
tier  had  excelled  himself.  There  were  glittering 
haystacks  of  spun  sugar ;  wonderful  Roman  char- 
iots, drawn  by  swans,  and  driven  by  Cupids ;  pyra- 
mids of  costly  bonbons  ;  dolphins  in  a  sea  of  rock 
candy ;  and  ices  in  every  form  from  a  pair  of  turtle 
doves  to  a  pillared  temple.  Gautier  spread  all  his 
tables  in  this  fashion,  the  grosser  dishes  of  game, 
terrapin,  and  canvasback  being  served  from  a  buffet. 

Washington  suppers  in  the  fifties  were  superb. 
One  wondered  if  we  might  not  some  day  return 


Roman  Feasts  and  Washington  Suppers     59 

to  the  feasts  of  the  Roman  emperors,  the  tables  of 
cedar  and  ivory  incrusted  with  jewels,  the  movable 
ceilings  representing  the  celestial  spheres,  the 
showers  of  violets  and  roses  which  rained  down  on 
the  guests  in  the  intervals  between  the  courses  of 
peacocks'  brains  and  nightingales'  tongues,  the 
trumpets  which  greeted  the  appearance  of  the  stuffed 
peacocks  with  spread  plumage.  Time  has  really 
changed  our  supper  fashions  less  than  we  imagine. 
Music,  delicate  wines,  confectionery  in  fanciful  forms, 
silver  dishes,  flowers,  perfumed  water  for  the  fingers, 
were  all  fashionable  in  the  fourteenth  century.  We 
smile  to  read  of  the  flocks  of  living  birds  and  the 
stuffed  fowls  that  adorned  the  boards  of  the  Neapol- 
itan kings.  But  it  has  not  been  many  years  since, 
at  a  banquet  given  in  New  York  to  Ex-President 
Cleveland  by  the  Manhattan  Club,  a  tank  was 
placed  in  the  middle  of  the  table  where  living  terra- 
pins crawled  about  and  were  thoughtful  spectators 
of  the  fate  of  the  terrapine  a  la  Maryland.  And  at 
intervals  around  the  board,  stuffed  pheasants  con- 
templated the  flight  of  the  faisan  roti  down  Demo- 
cratic throats.  Benedetti  Salutati  in  1476  never  did 
better  than  this.  And,  compared  with  these  ancients 
and  moderns,  M.  Gautier  was  extremely  refined, 
and  only  a  bit  anachronistic  with  his  Roman  chariots, 
Cupids,  and  swans. 

People  were  wont  to  remark  upon  the  atmosphere 
the  lovely  Lady  Napier  seemed  to  bring  with  her 
everywhere.  Those  who  were  admitted  into  her 
sanctum  sanctorum,  her  little  boudoir,  fancied  they 
could  explain  it.  Upon  her  table  was  much  silver 


60  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

marked  with  her  coronet  and  initials,  and  beside 
these  was  a  rosewood  book  rack  containing  half  a 
dozen  volumes  —  a  Bible,  a  "  Treatise  on  Practical 
Religion,"  "The  Mount  of  Olivet,"  "Paradise  of 
the  Christian  Soul,"  "  The  Christian  Year,"  "  Child's 
Catechism,"  "  Life  of  Dean  Ramsey."  These  were 
the  pure  waters  from  which  Lady  Napier  drank  daily. 
"  Ninia  Napier "  was  written  in  a  delicate  Italian 
hand  on  the  fly-leaf  of  each  volume. 

My  acquaintance  with  Lord  Napier  was  slight. 
Judge  Douglas  introduced  him  to  me  at  a  ball.  He 
stood  some  seconds  without  speaking.  At  last  he 
raised  his  cold  blue  eyes  and  asked,  "  Have  you 
been  long  at  this  place  ? "  I  answered,  "  No,  my 
Lord  ! "  Ten  words  had  passed  between  us,  with 
which  he  seemed  to  be  satisfied.  But  Lady  Napier 
I  knew  well.  She  returned  all  visits,  and  mine 
among  the  rest. 

England  and  Russia  had  been  at  war,  and  peace 
had  recently  been  concluded.  Of  all  the  foreign 
Ministers  I  knew  best  the  English  and  Russian. 
Baron  Stoeckle,  then  the  Russian  Envoy,  and 
Baron  Bodisco,  his  predecessor  (I  am  not  sure 
about  the  "  Baron "),  I  knew  very  well,  and  I 
cordially  liked  their  wives.  This  does  not  imply 
that  their  wives,  both  American,  liked  each  other. 

Madame  Bodisco,  laden  with  diamonds,  looked 
with  disfavor  upon  Madame  Stoeckle,  young,  blue- 
eyed,  and  in  simple  attire.  The  latter  was  from 
Massachusetts ;  the  former  had  been  a  beautiful 
Georgetown  girl,  whom  the  baron,  passing  her 
father's  orchard,  had  spied  in  a  blossoming  apple 


Madame  Bodisco ;    Baron  Stoeckle  61 

tree,  and  to  whom  he  had  forthwith  lost  his  Russian 
and  baronial  heart.  Madame  Bodisco  was  an  en- 
thusiastic Southern  sympathizer.  At  Madame 
Stoeckle's  own  table,  after  she  had  related  an  amus- 
ing anecdote,  Madame  Bodisco  whispered  to  me, 
"  Will  you  listen  to  that  Yankee  woman  with  her 
c  says  she  s '  and  c  says  Fs '  !  " 

Of  course  politics,  in  this  seething  time,  were 
never  alluded  to  in  any  company,  least  of  all  in  the 
presence  of  our  foreign  envoys.  It  required  skill ; 
but  we  kept  the  talk  upon  "  literature  and  flowers," 
the  birds  and  fishes  of  different  lands,  anything, 
everything,  except  the  topic  of  all-consuming  inter- 
est. But  at  one  of  Baron  Stoeckle's  very  genial 
dinners,  one  of  us,  to  test  his  ingenuity,  said  :  "  Come 
now,  Baron  !  Here  we  are,  Republican  and  Demo- 
crat !  Show  your  colors  !  Where  do  you  belong?  " 
"  Alas,  dear  lady,"  said  the  wily  diplomat,  "  I  am 
an  orphan  !  I  belong  nowhere !  I  am  an  Old-Line 
Whig"  This  party  had  just  become  extinct. 

One  of  the  exciting  events  during  the  Buchanan 
administration  was  the  arrival  in  Washington  of  the 
first  embassy  from  Japan  —  the  Japan  which  for 
hundreds  of  years  had  been  governed  by  the  domi- 
nant idea :  "  to  preserve  unchanged  the  condition 
of  tne  native  intelligence "  and  to  "  prevent  the 
introduction  of  new  ideas."  The  government  had 
maintained  a  rigid  policy  of  isolation,  "  living  like 
frogs  in  a  well,"  until  1853,  when  they  were  rudely 
awakened  from  their  dream  of  peace  and  security 
by  Commodore  Perry  sailing  into  the  harbor  of 
Yokohama  with  a  squadron  of  United  States  war 


62  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

vessels.  By  dignity,  resolution,  argument,  and 
promise,  he  extorted  a  treaty  in  1854  —  and  thus 
Japan  entered  the  family  of  nations. 

We  had  much  curiosity  about  the  Japanese.  We 
read  Perry's  cc  Expedition  "  with  keen  interest,  and 
were  delighted  with  the  prospect  of  receiving  the  em- 
bassy from  the  new  land.  Arrangements  were  made 
for  a  series  of  entertainments,  invitations  were  already 
issued  —  one  to  the  White  House  to  witness  the 
presentation  of  credentials  and  the  reception  of  the 
President. 

At  last  we  heard  that  the  strangers  had  landed 
and  would  soon  arrive.  I  was  in  the  gallery  of  the 
Senate  Chamber  with  an  intimate  friend.  We  were 
doubtful  about  going  out  with  the  crowd  of  citizens 
to  meet  the  Japanese,  and  were  hoping  that  the 
Senate  and  House  would  adjourn.  Presently  a 
member  rose  and  said :  "  Mr.  President,  the  first 
Ambassadors  from  the  venerable  country  of  Japan 
are  about  to  arrive.  I  move  the  Senate  do  now 
adjourn  to  meet  and  welcome  the  Japanese/' 

Immediately  another  Senator  was  on  his  feet, 
not  to  second  the  motion,  but  to  say  sharply,  "  Mr. 
President,  I  humbly  trust  the  Senate  of  the  United 
States  of  America  will  not  adjourn  for  every  show 
that  comes  along."  That  settled  it.  My  friend 
and  I  hurried  to  our  carriage,  and  meeting  the  cor- 
tege, turned  just  in  time  to  drive  side  by  side  with 
the  first  landau  containing  the  Ambassadors. 

Our  progress  was  slow  and  often  interrupted  — 
and  we  had  abundant  time  to  observe  the  two  digni- 
taries close  beside  us  in  the  first  carriage.  They  sat, 


Arrival  of  the  first  Japanese  Embassy       63 

fanning  themselves,  without  looking  to  right  or  left. 
The  one  next  me  was  extremely  wrinkled  and  with- 
ered—  doubtless  the  greater  man  —  and  he  was  so 
wooden,  so  destitute  of  expression  that  I — oh,  this 
is  much  worse  than  the  episode  of  the  ramshackle 
hack!  How  can  I  confess  that  I  "lost  my  head/' 
The  old  creature,  with  his  wrinkled,  yellow  face, 
turban,  short  gown,  and  petticoats  looked  so  very 
like  my  old  mulatto  mammy,  the  darling  of  my 
childhood,  that  —  I  leaned  over  and  put  my  pearl- 
handled  fan  on  his  knee,  motioning  to  him  to  give 
me  his  in  exchange.  The  old  gentleman  looked 
startled  for  an  instant,  but  he  soon  understood,  and 
I  became  the  first  possessor  of  a  Japanese  fan.  But 
then  a  strange  thing  happened !  I  was  suddenly 
overwhelmed  with  confusion  and  sank  back  beside 
my  companion,  pulling  her  parasol  well  over  my  face. 
"  Was  it  so  dreadful  ?  "  I  implored.  "  I'm  afraid  it 
was,"  said  she.  "  Hide  your  fan  from  the  others. 
We  will  never  tell."  Presently  she  added,  thought- 
fully, "  I  wonder  what  your  Aunt  Mary  would  say  ? " 
I  did  not  wonder.  I  knew  perfectly  well  what  my 
Aunt  Mary  would  say. 

All  of  which  goes  to  prove  that  it  was  lucky  my 
husband  had  not  taken  his  wife  to  Greece,  and  had 
not  accepted  the  mission  to  Persia  which  was  offered 
him.  He  had  a  wife,  unfortunately,  who  might  on 
provocation  lose  her  head. 

The  next  morning  we  repaired  to  the  White 
House  to  help  receive  the  Japanese  Embassy.  Mr. 
Buchanan  would  have  done  well  to  select  his  guests 
with  regard  to  their  slimness.  The  East  Room  was 


64  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

packed.  Ranging  on  either  side  according  to  our 
rank,  the  Congressmen  found  themselves  near  the 
wall.  We  mounted  our  smallest  representative,  Mr. 
Boyce,  on  the  low  mantelpiece  behind  some  palms 
with  instructions  to  peep  and  tell  us  everything  he 
saw.  "  What  are  they  doing  now,  Mr.  Boyce  ?  " 
"  Oh,  it's  grand !  They  bow,  and  then  they  bow 
again  !  "  "  Well,  what  are  they  saying  ?  What  are 
they  doing  now  ?  "  "  They  are  still  bowing,  and 
'  old  Buck/  God  bless  him,  is  bowing  too."  The 
ceremony  was  long.  The  murmured  voices  were 
low.  One  might  have  imagined  one's  self  at  a 
funeral. 

The  Belgian  Baron  de  Limbourg  gave  a  fine  gar- 
den party  to  the  strangers.  The  Baron  considered 
himself  on  the  entertainment  committee  as  he  had 
recently  married  the  daughter  of  our  Secretary  of 
State,  Mr.  Cass.  There  were  large  grounds  around 
his  residence,  and  these  he  lighted  with  Japanese 
lanterns,  dotting  the  lawn  all  over  with  pretty  tents, 
in  which  young  girls  costumed  to  represent  the 
peasants  of  various  countries  served  ices  and  confec- 
tions. The  large  area  in  the  rear  was  converted  by 
carpets,  hangings,  and  divans  into  a  luxurious  Turk- 
ish smoking  den. 

The  Japanese  always  presented  a  pretty  work-box, 
filled  with  curious  silks,  to  the  ladies  who  entertained 
them.  They  would  then  range  themselves  on  the 
seats  prepared  for  them  and  look  on  silently,  with 
half-shut  eyes  and  expressionless  faces.  The  danc- 
ing delighted  them.  "  How  much  are  the  women 
paid  ? "  ventured  one,  and  was  amazed  to  find  they 


The  Baron  de  Limbourg's  Fete  65 

danced  for  pleasure  only.  A  tiny,  round-faced  boy 
was  always  of  the  party.  We  sometimes  spoke  to 
him,  and  he  invariably  answered  "  all  right,"  until 
he  was  known  as  "  Little  All  Right,"  and,  as  he 
was  the  only  gracious  one  of  the  whole  party,  he 
became  a  favorite.  * 

The  Prince  de  Joinville  attended  Madame  de 
Limbourg's  fete.  During  the  afternoon  our  host 
sent  for  me,  and  I  was  conducted  to  an  alcove  where 
the  Prince,  Miss  Lane,  Lord  Lyons,  and  some  of  the 
Cabinet  ladies  were  gathered  around  a  little  bottle  of 
wine,  which  was,  we  were  told,  old,  old  Rose  wine 

—  costing  so  much  that  now,  what  with  interest  and 
compound  interest,  every  drop  was  worth  —  I  forget 
how  much !     And  we  were  to  drink  Miss  Lane's 
health.     "  And    I  !  "  —  she    protested.     "  I    cannot 
drink  my  own  health!     Am  I  to  have  no  wine?" 
Whereupon  she  was  conjured  to  think  her  own  toast 

—  and  we  would,  not  knowing  her  thought,  drink 
it  with  her. 

It  was  supposed  that  Lord  Lyons  was  her  suitor, 
and  we  were  persuaded  that  the  President  desired 
her  to  marry  him.  But  nobody  knows  the  heart  of 
the  king,  nor  the  heart  of  the  President  (who  fills 
in  some  sort  a  king's  position),  still  less  the  heart  of 
the  President's  pretty  niece  —  least  of  all  the  heart 
of  a  wily  diplomat !  We  only  know  she  married 
one  of  her  own  countrymen  —  and  as  to  Lord 
Lyons,  we  lost  him  for  good  and  all  when  the  dread- 
ful war  came. 


CHAPTER   V 

GAY    SOCIAL    LIFE    IN    WASHINGTON 

THE  rolls  of  the  Supreme  Court,  Senate,  and 
House     of     Representatives     presented     a 
list    of    great    names    in     1854-1860.       It 
would  seem  that  our  country,  knowing  herself  to 
be  in  mortal  danger,  had  summoned  the  wisest  of 
her  sons  for  conference  and  council :   Rufus  Choate, 
Curtis,  Seward,  Douglas,  Jefferson   Davis,  Salmon 
Chase,  Sumner,  Hale,  Toombs,  Hunter,  Robert  J. 
Walker,  and  the  brilliant  men  of  the  lower  House ; 
all  these  were  present  at  the  great  consultation. 

Of  these  men  the  most  interesting,  picturesque, 
and  prominent  was  undoubtedly  Stephen  A. 
Douglas.  His  political  career  is  known  to  a  world 
which  is  still  divided  in  opinion  of  him.  Was  his 
fevered  life  the  result  of  patriotism,  or  of  personal 
ambition  ?  The  world  still  assumes  the  power  to 
read,  with  a  magnifying  glass,  the  inner  workings  of 
the  human  mechanism,  and  to  put  its  discerning 
ringer  on  the  spring  of  human  actions.  Who  has 
ever  seen  the  heart  of  another?  Who  knows  his 
own  ?  By  their  works  ye  shall  know  them,  not 
by  their  impulses,  not  by  their  struggles  with  the 
diverse  machinery  within  them. 

One  who  liked  not  Stephen  A.  Douglas  has  thus 

66 


Stephen  A.  Douglas  67 

described  him.  "  Erect,  compact,  aggressive.  A 
personage  truly  to  be  questioned  timidly,  to  be 
approached  advisedly.  Here  indeed  was  a  lion,  by 
the  very  look  of  him  master  of  himself  and  of  others. 
By  reason  of  its  regularity  and  masculine  strength,  a 
handsome  face.  A  man  of  the  world  to  the  cut  of 
the  coat  across  the  broad  shoulders.  Here  was  one 
to  lift  a  youngster  into  the  realm  of  emulation,  like  a 
character  in  a  play,  to  arouse  dreams  of  Washington 
and  its  Senators  and  great  men.  For  this  was  one 
to  be  consulted  by  the  great  alone.  A  figure  of 
dignity  and  power  with  the  magnetism  to  compel 
moods.  Since,  when  he  smiled  you  warmed  in  spite 
of  yourself,  and  when  he  frowned  the  world  looked 
grave." 

This  was  Stephen  A.  Douglas.  The  picture  is  a 
true  one.  What  wonder  that  he  should  have 
captivated  my  husband  and  myself,  scarcely  more 
than  half  his  age  ?  The  warmest  friendship  grew 
up  between  us. 

I  remember  well  my  own  first  interview  with  him 
in  Washington.  At  a  crowded  ball,  I  had  found  a 
chair  outside  the  crush,  when  he  approached  with  a 
bottle  of  champagne  and  a  glass  in  his  hands.  "  I 
need  no  introduction,  Madam,"  he  said.  "  I  am 
sure  you  cannot  have  forgotten  the  man  who  met 
you  a  few  years  ago  in  the  little  Petersburg  hote 
and  told  you  how  like  you  are  to  the  Empress 
Eugenie.  No  ?  I  thought  not,"  laughed  the  judge, 
"  and  yet  she  isn't  a  priming  to  our  own  women ! 
Now,"  he  added,  bending  down  and  speakin 
gravely,  "  I  shall  send  Mrs.  Douglas  to  see  you. 


68  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

wish  you  to  be  friends.  Not  pasteboard  friends, 
with  only  a  bit  of  cardboard  passing  between  you 
now  and  then,  but  real  good  friends,  meeting  often 
and  being  much  together."  Just  here,  as  he  poised 
his  bottle  to  fill  my  glass,  his  elbow  was  jostled,  and 
down  came  the  foaming  champagne,  over  my  neck 
and  shoulders  and  the  front  of  my  dress.  The 
friendship  was  christened  —  the  bottle  broken  on 
the  new  ship  !  "  Don't  worry  about  the  gown ! 
You  have  excuse  now  to  buy  another,"  said  the 
judge,  as  I  gasped  when  the  icy  flood  ran  down  my 
bosom. 

He  had  lately  married  his  second  wife,  the  belle 
of  Washington,  beautiful  Adele  Cutts  ;  tall,  stately, 
and  fair  exceedingly.  She  was  a  great-niece  of  Dolly 
Madison.  We  met  often,  and  it  came  to  pass  that 
"  the  soul  of  Jonathan  was  knit  with  the  soul  of 
David." 

She  did  not  impress  one  as  having  what  we  call 
"depth  of  character,"  what  is  commonly  implied  in  the 
term  "superior,"  not  a  woman  to  assume  to  lead 
and  teach  other  women  —  a  character  less  lovable 
often  than  the  woman  who  knows  herself  to  be  of 
like  weaknesses  with  ourselves.  But  she  was  beauti- 
ful as  a  pearl,  sunny-tempered,  unselfish,  warm- 
hearted, unaffected,  sincere.  She  was  very  attentive 
to  her  "  little  giant."  When  he  made  those  terribly 
long  speeches  in  the  Senate,  on  the  Lecompton 
Constitution,  on  the  Kansas-Nebraska  Bill,  on 
popular  sovereignty,  she  would  wait  in  the  gallery 
and  hurry  down  to  wrap  his  overcoat  around  him, 
as  he  stood  in  the  hall  dripping  with  perspiration. 


Mrs.  Stephen   A.  Douglas  69 

She  imbibed  enough  political  lingo  to  rally  and 
amuse  him.  Some  workmen  having  arrived  to 
erect  a  platform  in  his  ball  room  for  musicians,  she 
exclaimed :  "  Oh,  Judge  Douglas !  What  is  a 
platform  ?  They  are  going  to  bring  one  into  this 
house,  and  we  shall  be  flayed  alive  or  murdered  in 
our  beds ! " 

I  said  to  her  once:  "  You  know  you  are  not  really 
handsomer  than  the  rest  of  us !  Why  do  people 
say  so  ? " 

"  Because  I  never  trick  myself  out  in  diamonds, 
or  have  more  than  one  color  in  a  gown.  An  artist 
told  me  once  that  all  those  things  spoiled  a  picture." 

She  would  have  liked  the  diamonds  as  well  as  the 
rest  of  us,  and  once  said  so  to  her  husband.  "  Oh, 
no  ! "  he  answered,  "  diamonds  are  the  consolation 
of  old  wives,  a  diamond  for  a  wrinkle  !  " 

Mrs.  Douglas  was  the  first  of  the  Washington 
ladies  who  adopted  the  fashion  of  closing  her 
shutters  in  the  early  afternoon  and  lighting  her 
rooms  with  gas.  She  was  delighted  as  a  child  with 
the  effect  and  indulged  in  a  preliminary  waltz  with 
me  before  the  company  arrived.  "  O  dear !  "  she 
exclaimed,  suddenly,  "what  am  I  to  do  with  this 
awful  picture  of  Judge  Douglas's  ?  I  daren't  take  it 
away  because  he  bought  it  for  his  first  wife ;  and 
when  old  Mrs.  Martin  pounces  down  upon  us  to 
see  how  we  are  spending  her  grandchildren's  money, 
she  will  miss  it,  and  think  I've  sold  it !  But  isn't  it 
awful?  Do  spread  out  your  flounces  in  front  of  it 
as  well  as  you  can."  The  noonday  lighting  of  her 
rooms  was  a  great  success.  Lord  Lyons  looked  up 


yo  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

and  spoke  of  the  beauty  of  the  starlit  night,  adding 
"and  there's  a  fine  moon  out  of  doors."  John  G. 
Saxe  was  one  of  the  guests  —  and  his  merry  hostess 
introduced  him  as  "deserving  capital  punishment 
for  making  people  laugh  themselves  to  death." 

I  have  had  occasion  to  allude  so  often  to  the 
costumes  of  the  ladies  of  Mr.  Buchanan's  adminis- 
tration, that  I  have  resolved  boldly  to  ask  my  reader 
to  accompany  me  for  a  few  minutes  to  Vanity  Fair, 
as,  guided  by  society  reports  of  the  period,  I 
describe  the  dresses  worn  by  the  leaders  of  fashion. 
I  suppose  the  journals  of  our  day  would  not  print 
columns  on  columns  describing  the  gowns  worn  at 
balls,  unless  there  were  some  sure  to  read.  Costume 
has  always  interested  the  world.  It  is  still  a  question 
whether  costume  influences  character,  or  vice  versa. 
And  yet  one  regrets  to  treat  charming  women  as 
though  they  were  lay  figures. 

There  will  be  a  great  deal  of  sorrowful  record  in 
this  book.  Let  us  linger  awhile  on  the  flowery 
brink,  before  we  reach  the  time  when  the  noise  of 
angry  waters  will  be  too  loud  to  be  hushed  by  the 
frou-frou  of  a  lady's  silken  gown.  Moreover,  there 
are  always  mistakes  and  misconceptions  to  be  cor- 
rected and  set  right.  Have  I  not  just  read  in  a 
New  York  daily  paper  of  the  ugly  fashions  of  the 
Washington  of  the  times  just  before  the  war  —  the 
"  great  hoops,  gowns  of  reps,  the  hideous  tints  of 
red,  the  Congress  gaiters ;  how  nobody  wore  a  ball 
gown  costing  more  than  $55,"  etc.,  etc.  ?  The  Con- 
gress gaiters  must  be  acknowledged,  the  hoops  also, 
but  perhaps  they  may  all  come  again ;  and  then 


Spacious  Times  and  Tastes  71 

some  beauty  like  the  empress  of  the  French  may 
arise  to  make  them  beautiful.  They  were  large  ! 
Beside  them  Queen  Elizabeth's  farthingale  was  an 
insignificant  circumstance.  The  belle  in  the  fifties 
lived  in  an  expansive  time.  There  was  still  plenty 
of  room  in  the  world.  Houses  were  broad  and  low, 
carriages  were  broad  and  low,  furniture  was  massive. 
Even  a  small  pier  glass  was  broadened  by  great 
scrolls  of  mahogany.  Drawing-rooms  were  filled 
with  vast  arm-chairs,  sofas,  and  tables.  The  legs 
of  pianos  were  made  as  massive  as  possible. 

Ladies  wore  enormous  hoops,  and  because  their 
heads  looked  like  small  handles  to  huge  bells,  they 
widened  the  coiffure  into  broad  bandeaux  and  braids, 
loaded  it  with  garlands  of  flowers,  and  enlarged  it  by 
means  of  a  wide  head-dress  of  tulle,  lace,  and  feathers, 
or  crowned  it  with  a  coal-scuttle  bonnet  tied  under 
the  chin  with  wide  ribbons.  In  this  guise  they 
sailed  fearlessly  about,  with  no  danger  of  jostling  a 
neighbor  or  overturning  the  furniture.  .  They  had 
not  then  filled  their  rooms  with  spider-legged  chairs 
and  tables,  nor  crowded  the  latter  with  frail  toys  and 
china.  Now  that  so  many  of  these  things  are  im- 
ported, now  that  the  world  is  so  full  of  people, — 
in  the  streets,  cars,  theatres,  at  receptions,  —  milady 
has  found  she  must  reef  her  sails.  Breadth  was  the 
ambition  of  1854  —  length  and  slimness  the  supreme 
attainment  of  1904.  What  would  the  modern  belle 
look  like,  among  all  these  skyscrapers,  in  a  hoop  ? 
Like  a  ball  —  nothing  more. 

Finding  herself  with  all  this  amplitude,  milady  of 
the  fifties  essayed  gorgeous  decoration.  She  had 


72  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

stretched  a  large  canvas ;  she  now  covered  it  with 
pictures  —  bouquets  and  baskets  of  flowers  appeared 
on  the  woollens  for  house  dresses  ;  on  the  fine  gauzes 
and  silks  one  might  find  excellent  representations 
of  the  Lake  of  Geneva,  with  a  distant  view  of  the 
Swiss  mountains. 

When  a  lady  ordered  a  costume  for  a  ball,  her 
flowers  arrived  in  a  box  larger  than  the  glazed  boxes 
of  to-day  in  which  modistes  send  home  our  gowns. 
The  garniture  included  a  wreath  for  the  hair,  with 
bunches  at  the  back  from  which  depended  trailing 
vines.  The  bouquet  de  corsage  sometimes  extended 
to  each  shoulder.  Bouquets  were  fastened  on  gloves 
at  the  wrist,  wreaths  trailed  down  the  skirt,  wreaths 
looped  the  double  skirt  in  festoons.  Only  one  kind 
of  flower  was  considered  in  good  taste.  Milady 
must  look  like  a  basket  of  shaded  roses,  or  lilies,  or 
pomegranates,  or  violets.  Ropes  of  wax  beads  were 
sometimes  substituted  for  flowers. 

I  once  entered  a  milliner's  shop  —  not  my  dear 
Madame  Delarue's —  and  in  the  centre  of  the  room, 
suspended  by  a  wire  from  the  ceiling,  was  one  of 
these  huge  garnitures  —  all  tied  together  and  de- 
scending down  to  the  floor.  "  This,  Madame,"  I 
said,  "  is  something  very  recherche  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Madame !  That  is  the  rarest  parure  I 
have.  There  was  never  one  like  it.  There  will 
never  be  another." 

I  scrutinized  the  flowers,  and  found  nothing 
remarkable  in  any  way. 

"  That,  Madame,"  continued  the  milliner,  "  was 
purchased  from  me  by  the  wife  of  Senator ! 


Ancient  Sermon  on  Women's  Ways         73 

She  wore  it  to  Mrs.  Gwin's  ball,  and  returned  it  to 
me  next  day.  I  ask  no  pay  !  I  keep  it  for  the 

sake  of  Mrs.  Senator  ,  that  I  may  have  the 

honor  of  exhibiting  it  to  my  patrons." 

There  is  no  reason,  because  we  sometimes  choose 
to  swing  back  into  the  ghastly  close-fitted  skirt,  or 
to  wrap  ourselves  like  a  Tanagra  figurine,  that  we 
should  despise  a  more  spacious  time.  Nor  is  it  at 
all  beneath  us  to  attach  enough  importance  to  dress 
to  describe  it.  Witness  the  recent  "  Costumes  of 
Two  Centuries,"  by  one  of  our  most  accomplished 
writers.  Witness  the  teachings  of  a  theologian 
eighteen  hundred  or  more  years  ago,  who  conde- 
scended to  illustrate  his  sermon  by  women's  ways 
with  dress  !  Says  Tertullian  :  "  Let  simplicity  be 
your  white,  charity  your  vermilion ;  dress  your 
eyebrows  with  modesty,  and  your  lips  with  re- 
servedness.  Let  instruction  be  your  ear-rings,  and  a 
ruby  cross  the  front  pin  in  your  head ;  submission 
to  your  husband  your  best  ornament.  Employ 
your  hands  in  housewifely  duties,  and  keep  your 
feet  within  your  own  doors.  Let  your  garments  be 
of  the  silk  of  probity,  the  fine  linen  of  sanctity,  and 
the  purple  of  chastity." 

"How  does  that  impress  you  for  a  nineteenth- 
century  costume  ? "  I  asked  Agnes  my  bosom 
friend,  to  whom  I  read  the  passage  aloud.  "  Well," 
she  replied,  cc  I  should  be  perfectly  willing  to  try 
the  ruby  hairpin  as  a  beginning  —  and  get  Clagett 
to  order  the  new  brand  of  silk,  which  sounds  as  if  it 
might  be  a  very  pure  article  indeed  and  warranted  to 
wear  well ;  but  if  you  are  seeking  my  honest  opin- 


74  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

ion  of  Tertullian,  I  frankly  confess  that  I  think  our 
clothes  and  our  behavior  to  our  husbands  are  none 
of  his  business." 

Society  letters  of  1857  give  us  strictly  accurate 
description  of  toilettes,  which  may  interest  some  of 
my  readers  : 1  — 

ccThe  wealth  of  the  present  Cabinet,  and  their 
elegant  style  of  living,  sets  the  pace  for  Washington 
soirees  —  equal  in  magnificence  to  the  gorgeous 
fetes  of  Versailles. 

"  At  the  Postmaster-General's  the  regal  ball  room 
was  lined  with  superb  mirrors  from  floor  to  ceiling. 
In  the  drawing-rooms  opposite  the  host,  hostess, 
and  daughter  and  Miss  Nerissa  Saunders  occupied 
the  post  of  receiving. 

"  Mrs.  Brown  was  dressed  in  rose-colored  bro- 
cade, with  an  exquisite  resemblance  of  white  lace 
stamped  in  white  velvet,  a  point  lace  cape,  and  tur- 
ban set  with  diamonds.  Miss  Brown  wore  a  white 
silk  tissue  embroidered  in  moss  rosebuds,  a  circlet 
of  pearls  on  her  hair,  and  natural  flowers  on  her 
bosom.  Lady  Napier  wore  white  brocaded  satin, 
with  head-dress  of  scarlet  honeysuckle.  Madame 
de  Sartige's  gown  was  of  white  embroidered  crepe, 
garnished  with  sprays  of  green.  The  wife  of 
Senator  Slidell  was  costumed  in  black  velvet, 
trimmed  with  fur.  Her  head-dress  was  of  crimson 
velvet,  rich  lace,  and  ostrich  feathers.  A  superb 
bandeau  of  pearls  bound  her  raven  hair.  Miss 
Nerissa  Saunders  was  exquisite  in  a  white  silk, 
veiled  with  tulle,  the  skirts  trimmed  with  rose- 

1  "  Life  in  Washington,"  by  Mary  J.  Windle. 


"Caps,  Gowns,  and  Petticoats"  75 

colored  quilling.  Mrs.  Senator  Clay  wore  canary 
satin,  covered  all  over  with  gorgeous  point  lace. 
Mrs.  John  J.  Crittenden  was  superb  in  blue  moire 
antique,  with  point  lace  trimmings.  Mrs.  General 
McQueen  of  South  Carolina  appeared  in  a  white  silk 
with  cherry  trimmings,  her  head-dress  of  large  pearls 
fit  for  a  queen.  Mrs.  Senator  Gwin  wore  superb 
crimson  moire  antique  with  point  lace,  and  a  head- 
dress of  feathers  fastened  with  large  diamonds. 
Mrs.  Stephen  A.  Douglas,  a  white  tulle  dress  over 
white  silk  —  the  overdress  looped  with  bunches  of 
violets  and  grass,  similar  bunches  on  breast  and 
shoulder,  and  trailing  in  her  low  coiffure.  Mrs. 
Faulkner  from  Virginia  was  attired  in  blue  silk 
and  Mechlin  lace,  her  daughters  in  white  illusion. 
Mrs.  Reverdy  Johnson  was  superb  in  lemon  satin 
and  velvet  pansies.  Mrs.  Pringle  of  Charleston 
wore  a  velvet  robe  of  lemon  color ;  Mrs.  Judge 
Roosevelt  of  New  York  velvet  and  diamonds ; 
Mrs.  Senator  Pugh  of  Ohio  crimson  velvet  with 
ornaments  of  rubies  and  crimson  pomegranate 
flowers." 

This  last  lady,  Mrs.  Pugh,  wife  of  the  Senator 
from  Ohio,  was  par  excellence  the  beauty  of  the 
day.  To  see  her  in  this  dress  was  enough  to  "  bid 
the  rash  gazer  wipe  his  eye."  Her  eyes  were 
large,  dark,  and  most  expressive.  Her  hair  was 
dark,  her  coloring  vivid.  Mrs.  Douglas,  Mrs. 
Pugh,  and  Kate  Chase  were  the  three  unapproached, 
unapproachable,  beauties  of  the  Buchanan  adminis- 
tration. The  daughter  of  Senator  Chase  was  really 
too  young  to  go  to  balls.  She  was  extremely  beau- 


7 6  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

tiful,  "  her  complexion  was  marvellously  delicate, 
her  fine  features  seeming  to  be  cut  from  fine  bisque, 
her  eyes,  bright,  soft,  sweet,  were  of  exquisite  blue, 
and  her  hair  a  wonderful  color  like  the  ripe  corn- 
tassel  in  full  sunlight.  Her  teeth  were  perfect. 
Poets  sang  then,  and  still  sing,  of  the  turn  of  her 
beautiful  neck  and  the  regal  carriage  of  her  head." 
She  was  as  intellectual  as  she  was  beautiful.  From 
her  teens  she  had  been  initiated  into  political  ques- 
tions for  which  her  genius  and  her  calm,  thought- 
ful nature  eminently  fitted  her.  When  she  realized 
that  neither  party  would  nominate  her  father  for 
President  in  1860,  she  turned  her  energetic  mind  to 
the  formation  of  plans  and  intrigues  to  obtain  for 
him  the  nomination  of  1868!  She  failed  in  that, 
she  failed  in  everything,  poor  girl.  She  wrecked 
her  life  by  a  marriage  with  a  wealthy,  uncongenial 
governor  of  Rhode  Island,  from  whom  she  fled 
with  swift  feet  across  the  lawn  of  the  beautiful  home 
at  Canonchet,  and  hand  in  hand  with  poverty  and 
sorrow  ended  her  life  in  obscurity. 

It  is  going  to  be  a  long  time  before  we  again  visit 
Vanity  Fair;  and  lest  it  linger  too  delightfully  in 
our  memories,  we  must  try  to  find  some  rift  in  the 
lute,  some  fly  in  the  amber — not  daring,  however, 
to  look  beneath  the  surface. 

And  so  we  are  fain  to  acknowledge  that  the  even- 
ing gowns  of  these  fair  dames  were  liberal  only  in 
their  skirts.  The  bodice  was  decollete  to  the  ex- 
tremest  limit  —  as  I  suppose  it  will  always  be.  And 
then,  as  now, — as  always, — there  was  no  lack  of  wise 
men,  usually  youthful  prophets,  to  preach  against 


Decollete  Bodices  77 

it,  to  read  for  our  instruction  Solomon's  disrespect- 
ful allusions  to  jewels  in  the  ears  of  fair  women 
without  discretion,  and  St.  Paul's  well-known  re- 
marks upon  our  foibles.  "  The  idea  of  quoting 
Solomon  as  an  authority  on  women,"  said  my 
friend  Agnes  one  day,  as  we  walked  from  church. 
"  I  never  quote  Solomon  !  He  knew  a  good  many 
women  without  discretion,  some  hundreds  of  .them; 
but  he  didn't  live  up  to  his  convictions,  and  he 
changed  his  mind  very  often.  He  was  to  my  think- 
ing not  at  all  a  nice  person  to  know." 

"  But  how  about  St.  Paul  ?  "  I  ventured. 

"  I  consider  it  very  small  in  St.  Paul  to  think 
so  much  about  dress  anyway  !  One  would  sup- 
pose the  thorn  in  his  own  flesh  would  have  made 
him  tender  toward  others ;  and  Timothy  must  have 
been  a  poor  creature  to  be  taken  in  by  'braided  hair,' 
c  gold  and  pearls,  and  costly  array.'  Now,  of  course, 
we  have  a  few  of  those  things,  and  like  to  wear  our 
hair  neatly  ;  but  I  don't  see  why  they  are  not  suitable 
for  us  so  long  as  we  don't  live  for  them,  nor  seek  to 
entangle  Timothy." 

"  Well,"  I  replied,  "  I  never  can  feel  it  is  at  *11 
my  affair.  I  hear  it  often  enough!  But  somehow 
St.  Simeon  Stylites,  preaching  away  on  his  pillar, 
seems  a  great  way  off,  and  not  to  know  the  bearings 
of  all  he  talks  about.  We  listen  to  him  dutifully ; 
but  I  fancy  if  we  amend  our  ways  we  will  do  it  of 
our  own  selves,  and  not  because  of  St.  Simeon." 

"  I  wouldn't  mind  St.  Simeon,"  said  my  irate  friend 
(she  had  worked  herself  up  to  a  pitch  of  indignation); 
"  probably  he  was  old  and  venerable,  and  to  be  tol- 


7 8  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

crated ;  but  it  hurts  me  to  be  preached  to  by  a  young 
thing  like  that  minister  to-day,  as  if  I  were  a  Baby- 
lonish woman  !  We  don't  c  walk  haughtily  with 
stretched-forth  necks,  walking  and  mincing  as  we 
go,  making  a  tinkling  with  our  feet.'  And  as  to 
our  &  changeable  suits  of  apparel/  and  the  'crimping 
pins,^  do  we  live  for  these  things  ?  Our  maids 
make^i  living  by  taking  care  of  them  while  we  are 
at  church  hoping  to  hear  of  something  better  than 
crimping  pins." 

The  lady  who  expressed  these  heretical  sentiments 
was,  as  I  have  remarked,  my  most  intimate  friend ; 
and  although  not  older  than  herself,  I  considered  it 
my  duty  to  reason  with  her.  "  But  you  see,  my 
dear  Agnes,"  I  said,  "  we  are  obliged  to  be  on  the 
side  of  our  young  preacher,  whether  we  like  it  or 
not.  He  is  the  white-plumed  champion  riding  forth 
from  the  courts  of  purity  and  beauty  of  behavior. 
We  wouldn't  like  to  be  the  sable  knight  who 
emerges  from  the  opposite  direction." 

"  I  would  !  "  declared  my  young  rebel.  cc  Infan- 
tile clergymen  should  keep  to  the  sins  of  their  own 
sex.  Nobody  criticises  men's  dress.  They  are  ex- 
empt. They  may  surround  their  countenances  with 
Henry  VIII  ruffs,  which  make  them  look  like  the 
head  of  John  the  Baptist  on  a  charger,  —  nobody 
calls  them  ridiculous.  They  wear  the  briefest  surf 
costumes  —  nobody  says  they  are  indecent." 

"But,  my  dear  — " 

"  But,  my  dear,  I  know  all  about  the  matter  of 
evening  dress.  I've  studied  it  up.  It  is  a  time- 
honored  fashion  (I  can  show  you  all  about  it  in  my 


Opinions  of  a  Society  Dame  79 

new  encyclopaedia).  You  remember  I  let  you  air 
your  learning  and  quote  old  Tertullian.  Did  I  look 
bored  ? " 

"  Not  at  all.  You  may  tell  me  now.  You  can 
finish  before  we  get  home." 

"  Well,  then,  the  decollete  bodice  is  not  a  new 
expression  of  total  depravity.  It  is  an  old  fashion, 
appearing  in  1280,  with  stomacher  of  jewels.  It 
reached  England  from  Bohemia,  but  was  then  the 
fashion  in  Italy,  Poland,  and  Spain.  Those  times 
were  not  conspicuous  for  sentiment,  but  were  quite 
as  moral  as  the  times  of  the  Greek  chiton,  or  the 
Roman  tunic,  or  the  Norman  robe,  or  the  Saxon 
gown." 

"  But,"  I  interrupted,  "  it  was  out  of  fashion  in 
the  high-necked  days  of  Queen  Elizabeth." 

"  Oh,  she  had  her  own  reasons  for  disliking  to 
see  a  suggestive  bare  throat !  Queen  Bess  was  not 
conspicuous  for  purity.  Don't  interrupt  me- — I'll 
prove  everything  by  the  book  —  lots  of  good  women 
have  worn  low  dresses.  Madame  Recamier  was  a 
pretty  good  woman,  and  so  were  our  grandmothers, 
and  so  were  the  ladies  of  the  Golden  Age  in  Virginia 
who  reared  the  boys  that  won  our  independence." 

"All  of  which  proves  nothing,"  I  declared;  but 
we  had  reached  our  door  on  New  York  Avenue,  and 
went  in  for  our  Sunday  dinner.  My  friend  did  not 
inflict  the  encyclopaedia.  She  had  already  quoted 
it.  What  was  the  use  ?  We  may  be  sure  of  one 
thing :  no  fashion  has  ever  yet  been  discarded  be- 
cause it  was  abused.  No  Damascus  blade  has  ever 
been  keen  enough  to  lop  off  an  offending  fashion. 


CHAPTER   VI 

CHARACTERISTICS    OF    SOCIAL    LIFE    IN    1858 

LEADERS    IN    SOCIETY 

THERE  were  many  brilliant  and  beautiful 
women  who  escaped  the  notice  of  the  society 
newsmonger  of  the  day. 

Mre.  Cyrus  McCormick,  recently  married  to  the 
inventor  of  the  great  reaping  machine,  was  one  of 
these.  Mr.  McCormick,  then  a  young  man,  was 
destined  to  be  decorated  by  many  European  gov- 
ernments and  to  achieve  a  great  fortune.  His 
wife,  just  out  of  Miss  Emma  Willard's  school, 
was  very  beautiful,  very  gentle,  and  winning.  No 
sheaves  garnered  by  her  husband's  famous  reaper 
can  compare  with  the  sheaves  from  her  own  sow- 
ing, during  a  long  life  devoted  to  good  deeds. 

Then  there  were  Mrs.  Yulee,  wife  of  the  Senator 
from  Florida,  and  her  sisters,  Mrs.  Merrick  and 
Mrs.  Holt,  all  three  noted  for  personal  and  intel- 
lectual charm  ;  and  beautiful  Mrs.  Robert  J.  Walker, 
who  was  perhaps  the  first  of  the  coterie  to  be  called 
to  make  a  sacrifice  for  her  country,  exchanging  the 
brilliant  life  in  Washington  for  the  hardships  of 
Kansas  —  "  bleeding  Kansas,"  torn  with  dissensions 
among  its  "  squatter  sovereigns,"  and  with  a  climate 
of  stern  severity,  where  food  froze  at  night  and 
must  be  broken  with  a  hatchet  for  breakfast.  Mrs. 

80 


Influence  of  Southern  Women  in  Society     81 

Walker  shrank  from  the  ordeal,  for  she  was  well 
fitted  for  gay  society ;  but  the  President  himself 
visited  her  and  begged  the  sacrifice  for  the  good  of 
the  country.  She  went,  and  bore  her  trials.  They 
were  only  a  little  in  advance  of  sterner  trials  or- 
dained for  some  of  her  Washington  friends.  Nor 
must  we  fail  to  acknowledge  the  social  influence  of 
Mrs.  Jefferson  Davis,  one  of  the  most  brilliant 
women  of  her  time  —  greatly  sought  by  cultivated 
men  and  women. 

But  the  wittiest  and  brightest  of  them  all  was 
Mrs.  Clay,  the  wife  of  the  Senator  from  Alabama. 
She  was  extremely  clever,  the  soul  of  every  com- 
pany. A  costume  ball  at  which  she  personated 
Mrs.  Partington  is  still  remembered  in  Washington. 
Mrs.  Partington's  sayings  could  not  be  arranged 
beforehand  and  conned  for  the  occasion.  Her  mal- 
apropos replies  must  be  improvised  on  the  moment, 
and  must  moreover  be  seasoned  with  wit  to  redeem 
them  from  commonplace  dulness.  Mrs.  Clay  rose 
to  the  occasion,  and  her  Mrs.  Partington  became 
the  Mrs.  Partington  of  the  future. 

The  reader  will  not  fail  to  observe  the  number 
of  Southern  women  who  were  prominent  in  Mr. 
Buchanan's  court.  A  correspondent  of  a  leading 
New  York  paper1  has  recently  written  an  interest- 
ing article  on  this  subject.  He  declares  that  the 
Southern  women  (before  Lincoln's  day)  had  long 
controlled  the  society  of  Washington.  "  With  their 
natural  and  acquired  graces,  with  their  inherited 
taste  and  ability  in  social  affairs,  it  was  natural  that 

1  New  York  Herald,  February  7,  1904. 


82  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

the  reins  should  fall  to  them.  They  represented 
a  clique  of  aristocracy  ;  they  were  recognized  leaders 
who  could  afford  to  smile  good-naturedly  at  the 
awkward  and  perplexed  attempts  of  the  women 
from  the  other  sections  —  Mrs.  Senator  This,  Mrs. 
Congressman  That  —  to  thread  the  ins  and  outs 
of  Washington's  social  labyrinth.  To  none  of 
these  ladies  was  the  thought  pleasant  of  secession 
from  the  Union  and  consequent  giving  up  what- 
ever of  social  dominion  she  had  acquired." 

I  wish  I  could  give  some  idea  of  the  "  days  at 
home  "  of  these  court  ladies  in  Washington  in  1858. 
The  large  public  functions  were  all  alike  then  as 
now,  with  this  exception,  that  nearly  every  man 
present  was  Somebody,  and  every  woman  Some- 
body's wife.  It  was  not  necessary  for  these  people 
to  talk.  The  men  made  little  effort.  It  was  well 
known  what  they  had  said  yesterday  in  the  House 
or  the  Senate  Chamber ;  but  we  dared  not  express 
opinions  in  public  (and  not  freely  in  private), 
such  was  the  tense  feeling  at  that  time.  Conversa- 
tion had  been  always,  at  the  South,  an  art  carefully 
cultivated.  Conversation  suffered  at  a  time  when 
we  were  forced  to  ignore  subjects  that  possessed  us 
with  absorbing  interest  and  to  confine  ourselves  to 
trivialities. 

Excusing  the  silence  of  one  famous  man,  some- 
body remarked  :  "  Oh,  well,  you  know  brilliant  men 
do  not  of  necessity  talk  well.  Thrilled  by  their 
utterances  in  their  speeches  and  writings,  we  are 
surprised,  when  we  meet  them,  at  their  silence." 
A  "famous  man's"  eye  twinkled.  "Ask  Gait," 


Conversation  over  the  Demi-tasse  83 

he  said,  "why  he  doesn't  give  away  his  gems. 
Probably  he  might  answer  that  he  proposes  to  sell 
them,"  an  ingenious  way  of  avoiding  the  remotest 
hint  that  silence  was  the  result  of  preoccupied 
thought  on  the  grave  questions  of  the  hour. 

For  some  inexplicable  reason  the  wives  of  great 
men  are  apt  to  be  quiet  and  non-committal  —  little 
moons  revolving  around  a  great  luminary.  Moon- 
like,  one  side  only  is  turned  to  the  world.  How 
is  it  on  the  other  side  ?  We  have  a  glimpse  of  it 
over  the  demi-tasse  in  the  drawing-room  after  din- 
ner, or  at  our  informal  "  at  homes "  in  our  own 
houses. 

At  these  times  of  unbending  in  Washington  we 
were  wont  to  begin  in  a  rather  stilted  manner,  sip- 
ping our  coffee  and  liqueurs  in  a  leisurely  way,  and 
steering  widely  clear  of  politics  and  politicians.  We 
talked  of  art  and  artists,  galleries  in  Europe,  shops 
in  Paris,  —  anything  except  what  we  were  all  think- 
ing about.  The  art  of  conversation  suffered  under 
such  circumstances.  But  some  interesting  books 
were  just  out  in  England,  and  everybody  was  dis- 
cussing them.  Thackeray  had  recently  given  "  The 
Virginians "  to  the  world.  Tennyson  was  turning 
all  the  girls'  heads  with  "  Elaine."  A  new  star 
was  rising  —  George  Eliot.  Dickens,  we  were,  at 
the  moment,  cordially  hating  because  of  his  "  Amer- 
ican Notes."  Bulwer  was  well  to  the  fore.  Two 
valued  members  of  our  own  special  coterie  were 
Randolph  Rogers  and  Thomas  Crawford  the  sculp- 
far,  whose  genius,  differently  expressed,  lives  to- 
day in  his  gifted  son,  Marion  Crawford.  Thomas 


84  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

Crawford  had  been  commissioned  by  the  state  of 
Virginia  to  execute  a  colossal  statue  of  Washington 
for  the  Capitol  Square  in  Richmond,  a  great  work, 
—  including  statues  of  Virginia's  statesmen,  —  which 
was  happily  completed  in  1861,  and  from  which  I 
heard  Jefferson  Davis's  inaugural  address,  February  22, 
1862,  upon  his  taking  the  oath  as  permanent  Presi- 
dent of  the  Confederacy.  It  was  a  black  day  of 
rain  and  snow ;  the  new  government,  destined  never 
to  flourish  in  sunshine,  was  born  in  storm  and 
tempest. 

Thomas  Crawford,  born  in  New  York  in  1814, 
was  now  at  the  height  of  his  fame.  He  had  studied 
and  worked  with  Thorwaldsen.  Apart  from  his 
peculiar  genius  he  was  a  charming  companion,  full 
of  versatile  talk.  The  younger  man,  Randolph 
Rogers,  was  also  most  interesting.  He  brought  to 
us  his  sketches  and  drawings  for  the  bronze  doors 
of  the  Capitol  before  they  were  submitted  to  the 
committee,  and  came  again  when  they  were  ac- 
cepted, to  tell  us  of  his  good  fortune. 

The  army  and  navy  people  were  especially  inter- 
esting. They  never  discussed  politics.  Their  posi- 
tions were  assured  and  there  were  consequently  no 
feverish  society  strugglers  among  them.  They  had 
no  vulgar  respect  for  wealth,  entertaining  charmingly 
within  their  means.  Admiral  Porter  and  his  family 
were  there,  General  Winfield  Scott  was  there,  the 
admiral  (then  commander)  forty-four  years  old,  and 
the  noble  old  veteran  nearer  seventy-four.  Both 
were  delightful  members  of  Washington  society. 
Nobody  esteemed  wealth  or  spoke  of  it  or  thought 


Over  the  Low  Tea-table  85 

of  it.  Office,  position,  talent,  beauty,  and  charm 
were  the  requisites  for  men  and  women. 

On  one  day,  I  remember,  I  had  gone  the  rounds 
of  Cabinet  receptions,  had  taken  my  chocolate  from 
the  generous  urn  of  the  Secretary  of  State,  and 
had  dutifully  looked  in  upon  all  the  other  Secre- 
taries. I  knew  a  dear  little  lady,  foreign,  attached 
to  one  of  the  legations  (I  really  never  knew  whether 
she  was  Russian  or  Hungarian),  who  had  invited 
me  for  the  "  end  of  the  afternoon."  Her  husband 
had  not  a  prominent  place  in  the  embassy,  nor  she 
in  society,  but  she  knew  how  to  gather  around  her 
tea-kettle  a  choice  little  company,  every  one  of  whom 
felt  honored  to  be  included.  I  found  her  seated  at 
a  small  round  table,  and  she  welcomed  me  in  the 
English  that  gained  from  a  musical  voice,  and  the 
deliberate  enunciation  of  syllable  which  always  seems 
to  me  so  complimentary  and  respectful  in  foreigners. 

The  fashion  of  the  low  tea-table  had  just  been 
introduced.  One  could  have  tea,  nothing  else. 
One  could  always  find  behind  the  silver  urns  "  'igh 
and  'aughty  "  butlers  serving  chocolate,  wine,  and 
every  conceivable  dainty  at  the  houses  of  the  great 
Senators,  Ministers,  and  Cabinet  officers.  Things 
were  much  more  distingue  at  this  lady's  tea-table. 
A  few  early  spring  flowers,  crocuses,  hyacinths,  or 
purple  heather,  were  blooming  here  and  there  about 
the  room.  Our  hostess  was  gowned  in  some  white 
stuff,  and  there  was  a  bit  of  classic  suggestion  in 
her  attire,  in  the  jewelled  girdle,  and  an  order  or 
medal  tucked  under  a  ribbon.  A  little  white- 
capped  maid  welcomed  and  ushered  us,  and  man- 


86  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

aged  to  hover  about  for  all  the  service  we  were 
likely  to  require.  The  impression  grew  upon  me 
that  all  this  had  been  done  for  me  especially,  and  I 
found  myself  thinking  how  fortunate  it  was  I  had 
happened  to  come.  That  lovely  woman  would  have 
been  so  sorely  disappointed  had  I  stayed  away ! 

But  presently  other  guests  arrived.  They  were 
all  foreigners,  but  perceiving  the  American  presence 
they  spoke  only  English.  The  hostess  put  into 
motion  the  most  musical  conversation.  How  has 
she  done  it  ?  She  has  made  no  effort  "  to  entertain." 
Conversation  had  come  unbidden.  Russian  tea  ? 
Why,  certainly !  Do  we  ever  care  for  other  than 
Russian  tea?  She  was  deliberate.  We  forgot  we 
were  sorely  pressed  this  day  with  seventeen  names 
on  our  list.  We  gave  ourselves  up  to  the  pleasure 
of  observing  her. 

She  lighted  her  silver  lamp ;  and,  although  she 
wished  us  to  see  the  great  shining  samovar  which 
descended  to  her  from  her  grandmother,  she  said  it 
was  good,  very  good  indeed,  in  the  camp  or  on 
journeys  when  one  had  only  charcoal ;  but  here  in 
America  the  fairy  lamp  to  light  the  wax  taper  and 
the  alcohol  burner  beneath  the  kettle  are  best.  She 
poured  the  water,  which  had  bubbled,  but  not  boiled 
(boiling  water  would  make  the  tea  flat),  over  deli- 
cious tea,  paused  a  moment  only,  then  poured  the 
steaming  amber  upon  two  lumps  of  sugar,  two  slices 
of  lemon,  and  one  teaspoonful  of  rum,  and  we  pro- 
nounced it  a  perfect  cup  of  tea.  But  our  enchantress 
said  No,  that  some  day  ladies  will  grow  tea  in 
their  own  conservatories,  and  then  only  will  it  be 


Over  the  Low  Tea-table  87 

perfect  in  this  country ;  for  the  ocean  voyage  spoils 
the  delicacy  of  the  sensitive  herb. 

Glancing  around  the  table,  our  hostess  grasped 
the  situation.  Here  was  a  Russian  lady  with  a 
proud  head,  there  two  dark-eyed  Bohemians,  one 
Greek  beauty,  an  English  woman,  and  our  own  stiff, 
heavy,  uncompromising  American  self! 

She  is  to  make  these  people  happy  for  the  five 
minutes  they  are  around  her  little  board.  How 
does  it  come  to  pass  that  these  strangers  find  a 
common  ground  upon  which  they  can  hold  animated 
conversation  ? 

They  talked  of  genius  and  geniuses,  —  how  they 
are  not  created  by  opportunity  or  culture,  but  are 
inspired;  how  that,  apart  from  their  gifts,  they 
are  quite  like  other  people,  not  even  cleverer  always. 
"  Yes,"  said  the  Greek  girl,  with  an  exalted  look  in 
her  dark  eyes,  "  they  are  chosen,  like  the  prophets, 
to  speak  great  words  or  compose  immortal  music,  or 
build  symphonies  in  stone ;  and  what  they  do  is 
outside  themselves  altogether."  "  It  is  literally 
true,"  said  the  Englishwoman, "  that  people  have  c  a 
gift '  apart  from  their  ordinary  selves.  Does  not 
George  Eliot  say  that  his  novels  grow  in  him  like  a 
plant.  No  amount  of  work  and  study  can  create 
a  genius ! "  And  then  everybody  marvels  at  the 
wonderful  young  man  (for  nobody  knows  it  is  a 
woman)  who  has  just  written  "  Adam  Bede "  and 
"  The  Mill  on  the  Floss." 

Or  perhaps  the  hostess  has  bribed  some  one  of  the 
foreign  legation  to  come  to  her  "  at  home."  Novels 
on  Washington  life  hint  of  such  a  possibility.  Or 


88  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

perhaps  some  prince  of  good  talkers  among  our  own 
Ministers  is  home  for  a  brief  holiday,  or  returned 
from  a  mission,  and  a  circle  gathers  around  him. 

Our  Minister,  sent  to  France  by  Mr.  Pierce,  once 
honored  me  by  his  presence  and  told  us  the  follow- 
ing story.  Everybody  who  remembers  the  genial 
John  Y.  Mason  will  easily  imagine  how  he  told  it, 
and  how  his  own  magnetism  possessed  his  listeners. 
Not  a  tea-cup  rattled  during  the  narration.  "  I 
lived,"  said  Mr.  Mason,  "  at  a  hotel  for  a  few 
weeks  after  receiving  my  appointment  as  Minister 
Plenipotentiary  —  while  my  house  was  being  made 
ready  to  bring  my  family.  The  house  was  crowded, 
and  my  landlord  was  forced  to  divide  one  of  his 
offices  by  a  thin  partition  to  receive  me  at  all. 

"  One  night  I  was  awakened  by  a  stifled  sob  on 
the  other  side  of  the  partition.  Rising  on  my 
elbow,  I  listened.  The  sob  was  repeated  —  then 
I  heard  abusive  language  and  oaths  in  English  —  I 
fancied  I  heard  a  blow !  Leaping  to  my  feet,  I 
struck  smartly  on  the  partition,  and  all  was  still. 

"  The  next  morning  I  asked  the  clerk  about  my 
neighbors  and  complained  that  they  disturbed  me. 
He  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  said,  c  Mais,  Mon- 
sieur !  they  are  Americans !  '  as  if  that  explained 
everything.  However,  he  informed  me  that  they 
had  left  the  hotel  that  morning. 

"  A  few  days  later  I  was  sitting  in  my  room  at  the 
legation,  when  I  received  a  visitor  —  a  slender  female 
closely  veiled,  who  said  in  a  troubled  whisper  that 
she  had  come  to  claim  protection  of  the  French 
government.  I  told  her  I  could  not  confer  with 


The  Lady  who  "changed  her  Mind"       89 

her  while  she  was  disguised,  and  she  slowly  raised 
her  hand  and  held  her  veil  aside.  I  never  saw  a 
lovelier  face. 

"  She  could  not  have  been  older  than  eighteen 
years.  Her  features  were  delicate,  her  eyes  large  and 
expressive,  her  brow  shaded  by  golden-brown  hair. 
She  was  deathly  white.  I  never  saw  such  pallor. 
£  What  can  I  do  for  you,  my  child  ? '  I  asked.  Well, 
it  was  a  sad  story.  Married  to  a  dissipated  young 
fellow,  away  on  her  wedding  journey;  threatened, 
and  in  terror  of  losing  her  life.  She  wished  the 
protection  of  the  police.  She  said  she  should  never 
have  had  the  courage  to  ask  it  alone,  but  that  she 
knew  I  had  slept  near  her  at  the  Maison  Doree.  I 
had  heard  !  I  could  understand.  I  was  the  American 
Minister,  and  I  could  help. 

" £  But  think/  I  said,  £  I  heard  nothing  but  harsh 
language.  We  cannot  go  with  this  to  the  prefet. 
He  will  not  consider  it  cause  for  action  against  your 
husband/ 

"  The  girl  hesitated.  Finally,  with  a  burst  of 
tears,  she  unfastened  her  gown  at  the  throat,  turned 
it  down,  and  disclosed  the  dark  print  of  fingers  on 
the  delicate  skin. 

"  It  was  enough.  She  had  been  choked  into 
silence  —  this  frail  American  girl  —  on  the  night 
when  I  heard  the  smothered  sob. 

"  Of  course  you  may  imagine  my  zeal  in  her 
behalf.  I  had  daughters  of  my  own.  I  arranged 
to  accompany  the  young  wife  at  once  to  the  office 
of  the  prefet,  and  having  ascertained  the  address  of 
her  bankers  I  resolved  to  make  arrangements  to 


90  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

get  her  out  of  Paris  in  case  she  felt  her  life  to  be 
in  danger. 

"  Well,  I  waited  long  at  the  office  of  the  prefet. 
Finally  our  turn  came.  I  rose  and  made  my  state- 
ment. Imagine  my  feelings  when  my  fair  client 
threw  back  her  veil,  and  with  a  surprised  look  said : 

"  '  I  think  the  American  Minister  has  been  dream- 
ing!' 

"  I  felt  as  if  a  tub  of  ice-water  had  been  poured 
over  me.  Of  course  my  position  was  perfectly 
ridiculous.  Before  I  could  recover  she  had  slipped 
through  the  crowd  and  was  gone.  While  we  waited 
she  had  changed  her  mind  !  " 

"  The  wretch  ! "  exclaimed  one  of  the  listeners. 
"  That  just  proves  that  women  are  always  attracted 
by  brutality." 

"  Really  ?  "  said  Mr.  Mason. 

"  Not  exactly,  perhaps,  but  there  was  once  an 
English  countess  who  explained  a  divorce  suit  of  one 
of  her  relatives  thus  :  — 

"  c  You  see,  Ermentrude  was  one  of  those  women 
who  needed  kicking  down  the  stairs,  and  Ferdinand 
was  gentle  ;  he  was  not  up  to  it !' 

An  agreeable  function,  no  longer  in  vogue  in  this 
country,  was  the  evening  party.  Lady  Napier  gave 
one  of  these  parties  to  present  her  friends  to  Edward 
Everett. 

These  parties  were  arranged  that  pleasant  people 
might  meet  distinguished  strangers  and  each  other. 
As  this  was  the  prime  object  of  these  occasions, 
there  were  no  blatant  bands  to  make  conversation 
impossible,  but  there  was  no  lack  of  delightful  music. 


The  Old-fashioned  Evening  Party  91 

Miss  Nerissa  Saunders  played  exquisitely  upon  the 
harp ;  Mrs.  Gales's  niece,  Juliana  May,  sang  di- 
vinely ;  many  young  ladies  had  cultivated  voices. 
Nobody  thought  of  hiring  entertainment  for  guests. 
The  guests  were  bright  talkers  and  could  entertain 
each  other.  If  a  ball  room  were  attached  to  the 
salon^  dancing  was  expected ;  but  the  parlors  were 
distant  and  people  could  talk !  Of  course  it  is  al- 
ways stupid  to  collect  a  lot  of  dull  people  together, 
but  the  wives  of  the  brilliant  men  of  Mr.  Buchanan's 
administration  understood  entertaining.  There  were 
always  gifted  conversationalists  present  who  liked 
talking  better  than  eating,  with  cleverness  enough 
to  draw  out,  and  not  forestall,  the  wit  of  others. 
This  art  could  not  be  claimed  by  the  great  talkers 
of  old  English  society,  Johnson,  Macaulay,  Cole- 
ridge, De  Quincey,  and  the  rest.  We  should  not  now, 
I  am  sure,  care  much  for  these  monopolists.  Sheri- 
dan, for  instance,  must  have  been  rather  a  quenching 
element  at  an  evening  party ;  for  in  addition  to  his 
own  witty  creations,  he  had  a  trick  of  preserving  the 
bon  mots  of  others,  leading  conversation  into  chan- 
nels where  they  would  fit  in,  and  using  them  ac- 
cordingly. Thus  in  talking  with  Sheridan  his  friends 
had  a  dozen  wits  to  cope  with  withal. 
•  Our  Washington  hostesses  always  gave  a  supper 
—  not  a  fine  supper  —  a  good  supper,  where  the  old 
family  receipt  book  had  been  consulted,  especially 
if  our  hostess  had  come  from  Kentucky,  Maryland, 
or  Virginia.  The  canvasback  ducks,  terrapin,  and 
oysters  were  unlike  Gautier's.  We  all  know  that 
rubies  are  now  less  rare  in  this  country  than  good 


92  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

cooks.  We  may  essay  the  triumphs  of  the  old 
Washington  of  the  fifties,  but  beneath  our  own  fig 
tree  they  become  failures  and  shabby  makeshifts. 
There  are  mysteries  in  cooking  unattainable  to  any 
but  the  elect  —  and  of  the  elect  were  the  sable 
priestesses  of  the  Washington  kitchens. 


CHAPTER   VII 

THE    THIRTY-SIXTH    CONGRESS 

WHEN  the  famous  Thirty-sixth  Congress 
met  for  its  long  session,  December  5, 
1859,  the  whole  country  was  in  ferment 
over  the  execution  of  John  Brown.  "  An  indiscreet 
move  in  any  direction,"  wrote  ex-President  Tyler 
from  his  plantation,  "may  produce  results  deeply 
to  be  deplored.  I  fear  the  debates  in  Congress, 
and  above  all  the  Speaker's  election.  If  excitement 
prevails  in  Congress,  it  will  add  fuel  to  the  flame 
which  already  burns  so  terrifically."  1  He,  and  all 
patriots,  might  well  have  been  afraid  of  increased 
excitement.  It  was  evident  from  the  first  hour 
that  the  atmosphere  was  heavily  charged.  The 
House  resolved  itself  into  a  great  debating  society, 
in  which  the  only  questions  were  :  "  Is  slavery  right 
or  wrong  ?  Shall  it,  or  shall  it  not,  be  allowed  in 
the  territories  ? "  The  foray  of  the  zealot  and 
fanatic  aggravated  the  fury  of  the  combatants. 

The  member  from  Mississippi — L.  Q.  C.  Lamar 
(afterwards  Supreme  Court  Justice  of  the  United 
States)  —  threw  an  early  firebrand  by  announcing 
on  the  floor  of  the  House,  "  The  Republicans  are 
not  guiltless  of  the  blood  of  John  Brown,  his  co- 

1  Rhodes' s  "History  of  the  United  States,"  Vol.  II,  p.  417. 
93 


94  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

conspirators,  and  the  innocent  victims  of  his  ruthless 
vengeance."  Lawrence  Keitt  of  South  Carolina 
declared :  "  The  South  asks  nothing  but  its  rights. 
I  would  have  no  more,  but  as  God  is  my  judge,  I 
would  shatter  this  republic  from  turret  to  founda- 
tion-stone before  I  would  take  a  tittle  less."  Thad- 
deus  Stevens  of  Pennsylvania  retorted :  "  I  do  not 
blame  gentlemen  of  the  South  for  using  this  threat 
of  rending  God's  creation  from  foundation  to  tur- 
ret. They  have  tried  it  fifty  times,  and  fifty  times 
they  have  found  weak  and  recreant  tremblers  in  the 
North  who  have  been  affected  by  it,  and  who  have 
acted  from  those  intimidations."  Such  were  a  few, 
by  comparison  with  those  that  rapidly  followed, 
of  the  wild  utterances  of  the  hour.  This  occurred 
on  the  second  day  of  the  session.  The  House  was 
in  an  uproar!  Members  from  their  seats  crowded 
down  into  the  aisles,  and  the  clerk  was  powerless  to 
preserve  order.  "  A  few  more  such  scenes,"  said 
one,  "  and  we  shall  hear  the  crack  of  the  revolver 
and  see  the  gleam  of  brandished  blade." 

In  this  spirit  Congress  proceeded  to  ballot  for  its 
Speaker,  and  balloted  for  two  months  (until  Febru- 
ary i),  before  Mr.  Sherman  was  abandoned  (having 
withdrawn  his  name)  and  a  compromise  effected  by 
the  election  of  Mr.  Pennington,  who  represented 
neither  extreme  of  party. 

During  these  two  months  everything  was  said 
that  could  be  said  to  fan  the  flame.  Hot  disputes 
were  accentuated  by  bitter  personal  remarks.  One 
day  a  pistol  accidentally  fell  from  the  pocket  of  a 
member  from  New  York,  and,  thinking  it  had 


Stormy  Scenes  in  the  House  of  Representives    95 

been  drawn  with  the  intention  of  using  it,  some  of 
the  members  were  wild  with  passion,  crying  ex- 
citedly for  the  sergeant-at-arms,  and  turning  the 
House  into  a  pandemonium.  John  Sherman,  who 
had  been  the  unlucky  bone  of  contention,  made  this 
remarkable  statement :  "  When  I  came  here  I  did 
not  believe  that  the  slavery  question  would  come 
up ;  and  but  for  the  unfortunate  affair  of  Brown  at 
Harper's  Ferry  I  do  not  believe  that  there  would 
have  been  any  feeling  on  the  subject.  Northern 
men  came  here  with  kindly  feelings,  no  man  approv- 
ing the  foray  of  John  Brown,  and  every  man  willing 
to  say  so,  every  man  willing  to  admit  it  as  an  act  of 
lawless  violence." 

Four  years  before  this  stormy  election,  Banks  had 
been  chosen  Speaker  after  a  contest  longer  by  a  few 
days  than  this.  Then,  as  now,  slavery  was  the  point 
at  issue  ;  but  "  good  humor  and  courtesy  had  marked 
the  previous  contest  where  now  were  acrimony  and 
defiance.  .  .  .  Then  threats  of  disunion  were  re- 
ceived with  laughter ;  now  they  were  too  manifestly 
sincere  to  be  treated  lightly."  In  four  years  the 
breach  between  North  and  South,  once  only  a  rift 
in  the  rock,  had  become  a  yawning  chasm.  What 
might  it  not  become  in  four  years  more  ? 

Not  foreseeing  the  rapid  change  of  public  senti- 
ment, the  Democrats  had,  four  years  before,  selected 
Charleston  for  the  meeting  of  the  convention  to 
name  their  candidate  for  the  presidency.  Accord- 
ingly, on  April  23,  the  party  was  convened  in  the 
"  hotbed  of  disunion." 

The  Northern  Democrats  had  heard  much  of  the 


96  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

splendor  and  elegance  in  which  Charlestonians  lived, 
and  of  the  Arabian  hospitality  of  the  South,  which 
could  ignore  all  animosities  over  the  bread  and  salt. 
But  Charleston  turned  a  cold  shoulder  to  its  guests 
from  the  North.  All  hearts,  however,  and  all  homes 
were  opened  to  the  Southerners.  They  dined  with 
the  aristocrats,  drove  with  richly  dressed  ladies  in  gay 
equipages,  and  were  entertained  generally  with  lav- 
ish hospitality.  All  this  tended  to  widen  the  breach 
between  the  sections. 

When  the  delegates  left  their  fair  entertainers  for 
the  sessions  of  the  convention,  the  ladies  repaired  to 
old  St.  Michael's  Episcopal  Church,  where  prayers, 
specially  ordered  for  the  success  and  prosperity  of 
the  South,  were  daily  offered.  "At  the  same  time 
fervent  abolition  preachers  at  the  North  were  pray- 
ing for  a  disruption  of  the  Charleston  convention." 

Judge  Douglas  had  written  a  platform  that  was 
not  acceptable  to  the  South.  After  its  adoption 
seven  delegates  from  Southern  states  declared  their 
purpose  of  secession.  The  convention,  seeing  that 
it  was  impossible  to  reach  any  result,  adjourned 
May  3,  to  meet  at  Baltimore  the  1 8th  of  June.  The 
seceders  resolved  to  meet  at  Richmond  the  second 
Monday  of  May.  This  initial  movement  awakened 
the  alarm  of  at  least  one  devoted  son  of  the  South. 
Alexander  Stephens  wrote  to  a  friend  :  "  The  leaders 
intended  from  the  beginning  to  rule  or  ruin.  .  .  . 
Envy,  hate,  jealousy,  spite  —  these  made  war  in 
heaven,  which  made  devils  of  angels,  and  the  same 
passions  will  make  devils  of  men.  The  Secession 
movement  was  instigated  by  nothing  but  bad  pas- 


Abusive  Epithets,  Insulting  Manners        97 

sions.  Patriotism,  in  my  opinion,  had  no  more  to 
do  with  it  than  love  of  God  had  with  the  other 
revolt."  1  In  conversation  with  his  friend  Johnston, 
shortly  after  the  adjournment  of  the  Convention, 
Stephens  said,  "  Men  will  be  cutting  one  another's 
throats  in  a  little  while.  In  less  than  twelve  months 
we  shall  be  in  a  war,  and  that  the  bloodiest  in  history. 
Men  seem  to  be  utterly  blinded  to  the  future."  2 

The  nomination  of  Lincoln  and  Hamlin  on  a 
purely  sectional  platform  aroused  such  excitement 
all  over  the  land,  that  the  Senate  and  House  of 
Representatives  gave  themselves  entirely  to  speeches 
on  the  state  of  the  country.  Read  at  this  late  day, 
many  of  them  appear  to  be  the  high  utterances  of 
patriots,  pleading  with  each  other  for  forbearance. 
Others  exhausted  the  vocabulary  of  coarse  vitupera- 
tion. "  Nigger  thief,"  "  slave  driver,"  were  not 
uncommon  words.  Others  still,  although  less  unre- 
fined, were  not  less  abusive.  Newspapers  no  longer 
reported  a  speech  as  calm,  convincing,  logical,  or 
eloquent,  —  these  were  tame  expressions.  The  terms 
now  in  use  were :  "  a  torrent  of  scathing  denuncia- 
tion," "  withering  sarcasm,"  cc  crushing  invective," 
the  orator's  eyes,  the  while,  "  blazing  with  scorn  and 
indignation."  Young  members  ignored  the  saluta- 
tion of  old  Senators.  Mr.  Seward's  smile  after  such 
a  rebuff  was  maddening  !  No  opportunity  for  scorn- 
ful allusion  was  lost.  My  husband  was  probably 
the  first  Congressman  to  wear  "  the  gray,"  a  suit  of 
domestic  cloth  having  been  presented  to  him  by  his 

1  "Life,"  by  Johnston  and  Browne,  p.  365. 

2  Rhodes' s  "  History  of  the  United  States,"  Vol.  II,  p.  453. 


98  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

constituents.  Immediately  a  Northern  member  said, 
in  an  address  on  the  state  of  the  country,  "Virginia, 
instead  of  clothing  herself  in  sheep's  wool,  had  better 
don  her  appropriate  garb  of  sackcloth  and  ashes." 
In  pathetic  contrast  to  these  scenes  were  the  rosy, 
cherubic  little  pages,  in  white  blouses  and  cambric 
collars,  who  flitted  to  and  fro,  bearing,  with  smiling 
faces,  dynamic  notes  and  messages  from  one  Repre- 
sentative to  another.  They  represented  the  future 
which  these  gentlemen  were  engaged  in  wrecking  — 
for  many  of  these  boys  were  sons  of  Southern  widows, 
who  even  now,  under  the  most  genial  skies,  led  lives 
of  anxiety  and  struggle.  Thoroughly  alarmed,  the 
women  of  Washington  thronged  the  galleries  of  the 
House  and  the  Senate  Chamber.  From  morning 
until  the  hour  of  adjournment  we  would  sit,  spell- 
bound, as  one  after  another  drew  the  lurid  picture 
of  disunion  and  war. 

Our  social  lines  were  now  strictly  drawn  between 
North  and  South.  Names  were  dropped  from 
visiting  lists,  occasions  avoided  on  which  we  might 
expect  to  meet  members  of  the  party  antagonistic 
to  our  own.  My  friend  Mrs.  Douglas  espoused 
all  her  husband's  quarrels  and  distinctly  "cut"  his 
opponents.  There  were  very  few  boxes  to  be 
had  at  our  little  theatre  —  and  the  three  best  were 
usually  secured  by  Mrs.  Douglas,  Miss  Harriet 
Lane,  and  Mrs.  John  R.  Thompson.  The  feud 
between  the  President  and  Judge  Douglas  was 
bitter,  and  Mrs.  Douglas  never  appeared  at  Miss 
Lane's  receptions  in  the  winter  of  1859-1860.  One 
evening  we  were  all  in  our  theatre  boxes,  Miss  Lane 


Rupture  of  Social  Relations  99 

next  to  us,  and  I  the  guest  of  Mrs.  Douglas.  Mr. 
Porcher  Miles,  member  from  South  Carolina,  who 
had  opposed  Judge  Douglas's  nomination,  appeared 
at  the  door  of  our  box.  Instantly  Mrs.  Douglas 
turned  and  said,  "  Sir,  you  have  made  a  mistake. 
Your  visit  is  intended  for  next  door  !  "  "  Madam," 
said  Mr.  Miles,  "  I  presumed  I  might  be  permitted 
to  make  my  respects  to  Mrs.  Pryor,  for  whom  my 
call  was  intended."  I  had  the  benefit,  of  course,  of 
the  private  opinions  of  each,  and  was  able  to  be 
the  friend  of  each.  "  This,  I  suppose,  is  Southern 
chivalry,"  said  my  fair  friend.  "It  savors,  I  think, 
of  ill-bred  impertinence."  "  I  had  supposed  her  a 
lady,"  said  Mr.  Miles,  "  or  at  least  a  woman  of  the 
world.  She  behaved  like  a  rustic  —  an  ingenue" 

I  could  but  receive  their  confidences  in  silence, 
perfectly  well  knowing  that  both  were  in  the  wrong. 
Both  were  betrayed  by  the  mad  passions  of  the  hour 
—  passions  which  caused  older  heads  to  misunder- 
stand, mislead,  and  misbehave !  "  I  am  the  most 
unpopular  man  in  the  country,"  said  Judge  Douglas 
(one  of  the  presidential  candidates) ;  "  I  could  walk 
from  Boston  to  Chicago  by  the  light  of  my  own 
burning  effigies,  —  and  I  guess  you  all  know  how 
much  Virginia  loves  me." 

I  had  the  good  fortune  to  retain  some  of  my 
Northern  friends.  The  family  of  the  Secretary  of 
State  was  loyal  to  me  to  the  end.  When  my  hus- 
band was  once  embroiled  in  a  violent  quarrel,  grow- 
ing out  of  sectional  feeling,  General  Cass  sent  his 
granddaughter,  pretty  Lizzie  Ledyard  (my  prime 
favorite),  with  his  love  to  bid  me  "  take  heart,"  that 


zoo         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

"all  would  turn  out  right.'*  Mrs.  Douglas  never 
abated  one  jot  of  her  gentle  kindness,  although  she 
knew  we  belonged  to  a  party  adverse  to  her  husband. 
Mrs.  Horace  Clark's  little  brown  ponies  stopped 
as  often  as  ever  at  my  door  to  secure  me  for  a  drive 
down  the  avenue  and  a  seat  beside  her  in  the  House. 
She  had  been  a  Miss  Vanderbilt  and  was  now  wife 
of  a  member  from  New  York.  All  of  them  were 
prompt  to  congratulate  me  upon  my  husband's 
speech  on  "the  state  of  the  country,"  and  to  praise  it 
with  generous  words  as  "  calm,  free  from  vituperation, 
eloquent  in  pleading  for  peace  and  forbearance." 

The  evening  after  this  speech  was  delivered,  we 
were  sitting  in  the  library  on  the  first  floor  of  our 
home,  when  there  was  a  ring  at  the  door-bell.  The 
servants  were  in  a  distant  part  of  the  house,  and  such 
was  our  excited  state  that  I  ran  to  the  door  and  an- 
swered the  bell  myself.  It  was  snowing  fast,  a  car- 
riage stood  at  the  door,  and  out  of  it  bundled  a  mass 
of  shawls  and  woollen  scarfs.  On  entering,  a  man- 
servant commenced  unwinding  the  bundle,  which 
proved  to  be  the  Secretary  of  State,  General  Cass  ! 
We  knew  not  what  to  think.  He  was  seventy-seven 
years  old.  Every  night  at  nine  o'clock  it  was  the 
custom  of  his  daughter,  Mrs.  Canfield,  to  wrap  him 
in  flannels  and  put  him  to  bed.  What  had  brought 
him  out  at  midnight  ?  As  soon  as  he  entered,  before 
sitting  down,  he  exclaimed  :  "  Mr.  Pryor,  I  have  been 
hearing  about  secession  for  a  long  time  —  and  I  would 
not  listen.  But  now  I  am  frightened,  sir,  I  am 
frightened  !  Your  speech  in  the  House  to-day  gives 
me  some  hope.  Mr.  Pryor!  I  crossed  the  Ohio 


Distress  of  the  President  and  Secretary  of  State  101 

when  I  was  sixteen  years  old  with  but  a  pittance  in 
my  pocket,  and  this  glorious  Union  has  made  me 
what  I  am.  I  have  risen  from  my  bed,  sir,  to  im- 
plore you  to  do  what  you  can  to  avert  the  disasters 
which  threaten  our  country  with  ruin." 

Never  was  a  spring  more  delightful  than  that  of 
1860.  The  Marine  Band  played  every  Saturday 
in  the  President's  grounds,  and  thither  the  whole 
world  repaired,  to  walk,  or  to  sit  in  open  carriages, 
and  talk  of  everything  except  politics.  Easy  com- 
pliments to  the  ladies  fell  from  the  lips  of  the  men 
who  could  apply  to  each  other  in  debate  abuse  too 
painful  to  remember.  Sometimes  we  would  be  in- 
vited for  the  afternoon  to  sit  on  the  veranda  of  the 
White  House  —  and  who  could  fail  to  mark  the 
ravages  of  anxiety  and  care  upon  the  face  of  the  Pres- 
ident !  All  the  more  because  he  insistently  repeated 
that  he  was  never  better — that  he  slept  finely  and 
enjoyed  the  best  health.  Nevertheless,  if  one 
chanced  to  stand  silently  near  him  in  a  quiet  corner, 
he  might  be  heard  to  mutter,  "  Not  in  my  time  — 
not  in  my  time."  Not  in  his  time  let  this  dear 
Union  be  severed,  this  dear  country  be  drowned  in 
blood. 

On  other  afternoons  we  visited  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Robert  E.  Lee  at  Arlington,  or  drove  out  to  George- 
town through  the  fragrant  avenue  of  blossoming 
crab-apples,  or  to  Mrs.  Gales's  delightful  house  for 
tea,  returning  in  the  soft  moonlight.  Everybody 
in  Washington  dined  early.  Congress  usually 
adjourned  at  four  o'clock,  and  my  little  boys  were 
wont  to  be  on  the  roof  of  our  house,  to  watch  for 


IO2         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

the  falling  of  the  flag  over  the  House  of  Repre- 
sentatives, the  signal  that  we  might  soon  have  dinner. 
The  evening  meal  was  late,  usually  handed.  It  was 
considered  not  "  stylish  "  to  serve  it  at  a  table.  A 
servant  would  enter  the  drawing-room  about  eight 
o'clock,  with  a  tray  holding  plates  and  little  doilies. 
Another  would  bring  in  buttered  biscuits  and 
chipped  beef  or  ham,  and  a  third  tray  held  cups  of 
tea  and  coffee.  Some  delicate  sweet  would  follow. 
Little  tables  of  Chinese  lacquer  were  placed  between 
two  or  more  ladies,  and  lucky  was  the  man  who 
would  be  invited  to  share  one  of  them.  Otherwise 
he  must  improvise  a  rest  for  his  plate  on  his  trem- 
bling knees.  "  Take  care !  Your  plate  will  fall," 
I  said  to  one.  "  Fall !  I  wish  it  would  —  and 
break  !  The  only  thing  that  worries  me  is  when 
the  blamed  thing  takes  to  rolling.  Why,  I  have 
chased  plates  all  around  the  room  until  I  thought 
they  were  bewitched  or  held  the  secret  of  perpetual 
motion!  "  These  suppers  were  very  conversational, 
and  one  did  not  mind  their  being  so  light.  There 
would  be  punch  and  sandwiches  at  eleven. 

Such  were  the  pleasant  happenings  that  filled  our 
days  —  clouded  now  by  the  perils  which  we  could 
not  ignore  after  the  warnings  to  which  we  listened  at 
the  Capitol.  We  were  conscious  of  this  always  in 
our  round  of  visits,  receptions,  dinners,  and  balls, 
with  the  light  persiflage  and  compliments  still  in 
our  ears. 

But  when  late  evening  came,  the  golden  hour  of 
reunion  in  the  library  on  the  first  floor  of  our  home 
was  marked  by  graver  talk.  There  would  assemble 


Midnight  Conferences  of  Southern  Leaders   103 

R.  M.  T.  Hunter,  Muscoe  Garnett,  Porcher  Miles, 
L.  Q.  C.  Lamar,  Boyce,  Barksdale  of  Mississippi, 
Keitt  of  South  Carolina,  with  perhaps  some  visitors 
from  the  South.  Then  Susan  would  light  her  fires 
and  show  us  the  kind  of  oysters  that  could  please 
her  "own  white  folks,"  and  James  would  bring  in 
lemons  and  hot  water  with  some  choice  brand  of  old 
Kentucky. 

These  were  not  convivial  gatherings.  These  men 
held  troubled  consultations  on  the  state  of  the  coun- 
try—  the  real  meaning  and  intent  of  the  North,  the 
half-trusted  scheme  of  Judge  Douglas  to  allow  the 
territories  to  settle  for  themselves  the  vexed  question 
of  slavery  within  their  borders,  the  right  of  peaceable 
secession.  The  dawn  would  find  them  again  and 
again  with  but  one  conclusion  —  they  would  stand  to- 
gether: "  Unum  et  commune  periclum  una  salus  !  " 

But  Holbein's  spectre  was  already  behind  the 
door,  and  had  marked  his  men !  In  a  few  months 
the  swift  bullet  for  one  enthusiast,  for  another 
(the  least  considered  of  them  all),  a  glorious  death 
on  the  walls  of  a  hard-won  rampart  —  he  the  first 
to  raise  his  colors  and  the  shout  of  victory ;  for 
only  one,  or  two,  or  three,  the  doubtful  boon  of  ex- 
istence after  the  struggle  was  all  over ;  for  all  surviv- 
ors, memories  that  made  the  next  four  years  seem 
to  be  the  sum  of  life  —  the  only  real  life  —  beside 
which  the  coming  years  would  be  but  a  troubled 
dream. 

The  long  session  did  not  close  until  June,  and  in 
the  preceding  month  Abraham  Lincoln  was  chosen 
candidate  by  the  Republican  party  for  the  presidency, 


IO4         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

and  Stephen  A.  Douglas  by  the  Democrats.  The 
South  had  also  a  candidate,  and  hoping  to  make 
things  better,  the  ruffled-shirt  gentry  —  the  Old- Line 
Whigs  —  had  also  named  their  man. 

My  little  boys  and  I  were  glad  to  go  home  to 
Virginia.  A  season  of  perfect  happiness  awaited 
them,  with  their  sisters  and  the  dear  old  people 
whom  they  called  grandfather  and  grandmother. 
Under  the  shade  of  the  trees,  and  in  the  veranda 
covered  with  Lamarque  roses,  who  could  dream  of 
war  ? 

In  the  hot  and  bitter  campaign  that  ensued  we 
are  told  that  "  Douglas  took  the  unusual  course 
for  a  presidential  candidate  of  visiting  different  parts 
of  the  country  and  discussing  the  political  issues  and 
their  personal  bearings.  Speaking  on  all  occasions, 
from  the  platform  of  the  railroad  car,  the  balcony 
of  the  hotel,  at  monster  mass-meetings,  he  said  much 
that  was  trivial  and  undignified,  but  he  also  said  much 
that  was  patriotic,  unselfish,  and  pregnant  with  con- 
stitutional wisdom.  Coldly  received  at  the  South, 
where  he  was  looked  upon  as  a  renegade,  he  aroused 
great  enthusiasm  at  the  North,  and  his  personal 
presence  was  the  only  feature  that  gave  any  life  to 
the  struggle  against  the  Republicans."  * 

The  words  "irrepressible  conflict"  were  much  in 
evidence  during  this  campaign.  Seward  adopted 
them,  and  made  speeches  characterized  as  his  "  Irre- 
pressible Conflict  Speeches."  2  Seward  reaffirmed 
almost  everywhere  the  declaration  of  the  "  irrepress- 
ible conflict,"  and  when  challenged  because  of  the 

l  Rhodes,  Vol.  II,  p.  493.  2  Mjtt  Vol.  II,  p.  495. 


Author  of  the  Words,  "Irrepressible  Conflict"  105 

term,  he  "  maintained  that  the  Republicans  simply 
reverted  to  the  theory  and  practice  of  their  fathers," 
giving  no  hint  of  a  quotation. 

The  authorship  of  these  words  has  always  been 
credited  to  Mr.  Seward.  Their  true  origin  may  be 
found  in  the  address  of  Mr.  Lincoln,  delivered  at 
Cincinnati,  Ohio,  in  September,  1859.  On  page 
262  of  the  volume  published  by  Follett,  Foster,  & 
Co.  in  1860,  entitled  "Political  Debates  between 
Hon.  Abraham  Lincoln  and  Hon.  Stephen  A. 
Douglas,"  may  be  found  the  following  extract  from 
Mr.  Lincoln's  speech  :  — 

"  I  have  alluded  in  the  beginning  of  these  remarks  to  the 
fact  that  Judge  Douglas  has  made  great  complaint  of  my 
having  expressed  the  opinion  that  this  Government  c  can- 
not endure  permanently  half  slave  and  half  free.'  He  has 
complained  of  Seward  for  using  different  language,  and 
declaring  that  there  is  an  '  irrepressible  conflict  '  between 
the  principles  of  free  and  slave  labor.  [A  voice  :  '  He  says 
it  is  not  original  with  Seward.  That  is  original  with  Lin- 
coln.'] I  will  attend  to  that  immediately,  sir.  Since  that 
time,  Hickman  of  Pennsylvania  expressed  the  same  senti- 
ment. He  has  never  denounced  Mr.  Hickman ;  why  ? 
There  is  a  little  chance,  notwithstanding  that  opinion  in 
the  mouth  of  Hickman,  that  he  may  yet  be  a  Douglas  man. 
That  is  the  difference  !  It  is  not  unpatriotic  to  hold  that 
opinion,  if  a  man  is  a  Douglas  man. 

"  But  neither  I,  nor  Seward,  nor  Hickman  is  entitled  to 
the  enviable  or  unenviable  distinction  of  having  first  ex- 
pressed that  idea.  That  same  idea  was  expressed  by  the 
Richmond  Enquirer  in  Virginia,  in  1856, quite  two  years  before 
it  was  expressed  by  the  first  of  us.  And  while  Douglas  was 
pluming  himself  that  in  his  conflict  with  my  humble  self,  last 


io6         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

year,  he  had  '  squelched  out J  that  fatal  heresy,  as  he  de- 
lighted to  call  it,  and  had  suggested  that  if  he  only  had  had 
a  chance  to  be  in  New  York  and  meet  Seward  he  would 
have  l  squelched '  it  there  also,  it  never  occurred  to  him  to 
breathe  a  word  against  Pryor.  I  don't  think  that  you  can 
discover  that  Douglas  ever  talked  of  going  to  Virginia  to 
'  squelch '  out  that  idea  there.  No.  More  than  that. 
That  same  Roger  A.  Pryor  was  brought  to  Washington 
City  and  made  the  editor  of  the  par  excellence  Douglas 
paper,  after  making  use  of  that  expression,  which  in  us  is 
so  unpatriotic  and  heretical." 

Before  we  returned  to  Washington  Mr.  Lincoln 
was  elected  President  of  the  United  States. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

MEMORABLE  DAYS  IN  THE    HISTORY   OF  THE   COUNTRY 

A  MOMENTOUS  day  in  the  history  of  this 
country  was  November  6,  1860 — on  that 
day  the  extreme  party  of  the  North  elected 
its  candidate,  with  a  Vice-President,  making  the 
Executive  purely  sectional.  But  few  people  ex- 
pected the  fulfilment  of  the  evils  so  insistently 
threatened  as  a  consequence  of  this  election. 

Not  for  one  moment  had  we  seriously  entertained 
the  thought  of  secession.  The  question  of  slavery 
in  the  territories  was  still  unsettled,  and  the  stormy 
scenes  in  the  House  might  possibly  be  reenacted. 
Like  General  Cass,  we  had  heard  all  our  lives  rumors 
of  possible  secession,  possible  war.  Nobody  believed 
these  rumors  — any  more  than  we  believed  that  every 
threatening  cloud  would  burst  in  a  devastating  tem- 
pest. It  was  part  of  the  routine,  "  the  order  of  the 
day,"  to  enliven  things  by  warm  discussions  and 
spicy  personalities. 

My  husband  had  been  unanimously  reflected, 
and  our  delightful  Washington  life  was  assured  to 
us  —  certainly  for  three  winters  —  probably  for  ail 
time. 

We  were  so  deeply  concerned  about  the  state  of 
the  country  at  large,  that  his  election  excited  us  but 

107 


io8          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

little.  When  the  polls  closed  at  sunset,  one 
of  his  political  friends  came  to  me  and  said  there 
would  be  a  torch-light  procession  in  his  honor, 
that  the  crowd  would  call  at  his  residence,  and 
the  house  must  be  illuminated.  "  Illuminated  !  " 
I  exclaimed.  "  Impossible  !  There  are  not  half  a 
dozen  candles  in  the  house,  and  the  stores  are  all 
closed.  Besides,  the  babies  will  be  asleep.  It 
is  bad  for  babies  to  be  roused  from  their  first 
sleep." 

My  friend  seemed  to  appreciate  this  reasoning ; 
but  later  in  the  evening  I  received  a  bushel  of  small 
white  turnips  and  a  box  of  candles,  with  a  pencilled 
note  saying  that  I  must  cut  holes  in  the  vegetables, 
and  I  would  find  them  admirable  candlesticks.  The 
little  boys  and  servants  went  to  work  with  a  will, 
and  when  the  drum  announced  the  near  approach 
of  the  procession,  every  window  was  blazing  with  a 
double  row  of  lights,  one  row  on  the  window-sill, 
the  other  midway,  on  the  top  of  the  lower  sash. 

My  young  Congressman  was  considered  a  brilliant 
speaker,  and  his  talents  were  sometimes  called 
into  use  in  Washington.  Some  matter  of  municipal 
interest  was  supported  by  him,  and  another  torch- 
light procession  gathered  late  one  night  around  the 
door  of  the  house  on  New  York  Avenue. 

"You  are  not  to  listen,"  he  said  to  me,  as  he 
descended  to  the  front  door  to  speak  to  the  crowd ; 
"  I  shall  say  a  few  words  only."  I  threw  a  shawl 
over  my  night-dress  and  crouched  down  in  a  little 
balcony  just  over  his  head.  To  my  prejudiced 
mind,  his  speech  was  the  most  graceful  and  charm- 


Happy  Hours  before  the  Storm  109 

ing  thing  I  had  ever  heard.  I  was  in  a  delightful 
trance  of  happiness  when  he  closed,  and  was  rudely 
awakened  when,  in  response  to  shouts  of  "  Go  on,  go 
on,  we  could  listen  all  night,"  the  daring  young 
orator  deliberately  turned  and  pointed  to  the  balcony 
above  him :  "  Go  on,  my  friends  ?  Go  on,  exposed 
to  the  criticism  of  one  from  whose  criticism  I  am 
always  trying  to  escape?  " 

I  fell  back  out  of  sight  on  the  floor.  I  never 
listened  afterward ! 

And  among  the  pleasant  happenings  of  these 
golden  days,  so  soon  to  be  shut  in  by  darkness  and 
sorrow,  was  the  presentation  to  my  young  Congress- 
man of  a  beautiful  service  of  silver  from  his  Demo- 
cratic friends  of  Virginia  in  recognition  of  "  brilliant 
talents,  eminent  worth,  and  distinguished  services." 

Mr.  Gait  made  this  splendid  service,  and  I 
record  it  here  because  it  became  part  of  the  history 
of  the  next  years  of  trouble.  I  should  have  lost  it 
once  (in  a  dark  hour),  but  Mr.  Gait  bade  me  keep 
it  —  that  brighter  days  were  in  store  for  me  and 
mine,  a  prophecy  which  he  lived  to  see  fulfilled. 

We  were  all  in  our  places  in  November,  setting 
our  houses  in  order,  several  weeks  before  the 
assembling  of  Congress.  We  were  warmly  wel- 
comed into  our  pleasant  home  by  Susan,  whose 
authority,  now  fully  established  and  recognized, 
kept  us  in  perfect  order.  Everything  promised 
a  season  of  unusual  interest.  We  now  knew  every- 
body —  and  what  is  more  I,  for  one,  liked  every- 
body. It  takes  so  little  to  make  a  woman  happy  ! 

In   Washington    our   social    life   did   not   begin 


no         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

before  New  Year's  Day.  Among  our  first  cards 
this  winter  was  an  invitation  to  the  marriage  of 
Mr.  Bouligny,  member  from  Louisiana,  and  Miss 
Parker,  daughter  of  a  wealthy  Washington  grocer. 
Rumors  reached  us  of  unusual  plans  for  this  wed- 
ding. Mr.  Parker's  large  house  was  to  be  converted 
into  a  conservatory  filled  with  blossoming  roses 
and  lilies.  Fountains  were  to  be  introduced,  new 
effects  in  lighting.  The  presents  were  to  be  mag- 
nificent, the  bridal  dress  gorgeous. 

Upon  arriving  at  the  house  (I  think  it  was  an 
afternoon  wedding)  I  found  the  President  seated  in 
an  arm-chair  at  one  end  of  the  drawing-room,  and 
the  guests  ranging  themselves  on  either  side.  A 
crimson  velvet  curtain  was  stretched  across  the  other 
end  of  the  room.  Presently  the  curtain  parted,  and 
the  bridal  tableau  appeared  in  position  behind  it. 
After  the  ceremony  the  crowd  waited  until  the 
President  went  forward  to  wish  the  bride  and  her 
husband  "  a  great  deal  of  happiness."  Everybody 
remained  standing  until  Mr.  Buchanan  returned  to 
his  seat.  I  stood  behind  his  chair  and  observed  that 
he  had  aged  much  since  the  summer. 

He  had  had  much  to  bear.  Unable  to  please 
either  party,  he  had  been  accused  of  cowardice, 
imbecility,  and  even  insanity,  by  both  parties. 
"  The  President  is  pale  with  fear,"  said  General 
Cass.  "  He  divides  his  time  equally  between  pray- 
ing and  crying.  Such  an  imbecile  was  never  seen 
before,"  said  another.  A  double-leaded  editorial  in 
the  New  York  Tribune  of  December  17  suggested 
that  he  might  be  insane.  On  the  day  of  the  wed- 


The  Secession  of  South  Carolina  1 1 1 

ding,  December  20,  he  stoutly  denied  that  he  was 
ill.  "  I  never  enjoyed  better  health  nor  a  more  tran- 
quil spirit,'*  said  the  hard-pressed  President.  "  I 
have  not  lost  an  hour's  sleep  nor  a  single  meal.  I 
weigh  well  and  prayerfully  what  course  I  ought  to 
adopt,"  he  had  written  on  that  day. 

The  crowd  in  the  Parker  drawing-room  soon 
thinned  as  the  guests  found  their  way  to  the  rooms 
in  which  the  presents  were  displayed.  The  Presi- 
dent kept  his  seat,  and  I  stood  behind  him  as  one 
and  another  came  forward  to  greet  him.  Presently 
he  looked  over  his  shoulder  and  said,  "  Madam,  do 
you  suppose  the  house  is  on  fire?  I  hear  an  unusual 
commotion  in  the  hall." 

"  I  will  inquire  the  cause,  Mr.  President,"  I  said. 
I  went  out  at  the  nearest  door,  and  there  in  the 
entrance  hall  I  found  Mr.  Lawrence  Keitt,  member 
from  South  Carolina,  leaping  in  the  air,  shaking  a 
paper  over  his  head,  and  exclaiming,  "  Thank  God  ! 
Oh,  thank  God  !  "  I  took  hold  of  him  and  said  : 
"  Mr.  Keitt,  are  you  crazy  ?  The  President  hears 
you,  and  wants  to  know  what's  the  matter." 

"  Oh  !  "  he  cried,  "  South  Carolina  has  seceded  ! 
Here's  the  telegram.  I  feel  like  a  boy  let  out  from 
school." 

I  returned  and,  bending  over  Mr.  Buchanan's 
chair,  said  in  a  low  voice :  "  It  appears,  Mr.  Presi- 
dent, that  South  Carolina  has  seceded  from  the 
Union.  Mr.  Keitt  has  a  telegram."  He  looked 
at  me,  stunned  for  a  moment.  Falling  back  and 
grasping  the  arms  of  his  chair,  he  whispered, 
"  Madam,  might  I  beg  you  to  have  my  carriage 


H2         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

called  ? "  I  met  his  secretary  and  sent  him  in 
without  explanation,  and  myself  saw  that  his  carriage 
was  at  the  door  before  I  reentered  the  room.  I 
then  found  my  husband,  who  was  already  cornered 
with  Mr.  Keitt,  and  we  called  our  own  carriage  and 
drove  to  Judge  Douglas's.  There  was  no  more 
thought  of  bride,  bridegroom,  wedding  cake,  or 
wedding  breakfast. 

This  was  the  tremendous  event  which  was  to 
change  all  our  lives  —  to  give  us  poverty  for  riches, 
mutilation  and  wounds  for  strength  and  health, 
obscurity  and  degradation  for  honor  and  distinction, 
exile  and  loneliness  for  inherited  homes  and  friends, 
pain  and  death  for  happiness  and  life. 

The  news  was  not  known,  except  in  official  circles, 
until  the  evening.  The  night  was  dark.  A  driz- 
zling rain  was  falling ;  the  streets  were  almost  im- 
passable from  mud. 

At  the  house  of  a  prominent  South  Carolina  gen- 
tleman a  crowd  soon  collected.  The  street  was  full 
of  carriages,  the  house  brilliantly  lighted. 

Admiral  Porter,  then  a  lieutenant,  had  heard  the 
startling  news,  and  called  at  this  house  to  tell  it. 
He  found  the  mistress  of  the  mansion  descending 
in  cloak  and  bonnet,  and  as  soon  as  she  saw  him  she 
exclaimed:  "  Oh,  Captain,  you  are  just  the  man  I 
want.  I'm  going  to  the  White  House  to  tell  the 
President  some  good  news.  The  horses  are  sick 
and  I'm  going  to  walk  over."  1 

"  It  is  impossible  for  you  to  walk  through  the 
rain  and  mud,"  said  the  Lieutenant.  "  There  are 

1  "  Anecdotes  and  Incidents  of  the  Civil  War,"  Porter. 


Admiral  Porter  visits  South  Carolina  Friends   113 

ten  or  twelve  hacks  at  the  door,  and  I  will  press 
one  into  your  service."  So  saying,  he  called  a  car- 
riage and  helped  her  to  enter  it,  getting  in  after  her. 

"  I  was  under  the  impression,"  he  said,  as  they 
started,  "  that  you  were  having  a  party  at  your 
house,  it  was  so  brilliantly  lighted  up,  and  I  thought 
I  would  venture  in  uninvited." 

"  No,  indeed,"  she  replied ;  "  but  we  have  received 
glorious  news  from  the  South,  and  my  husband's 
friends  are  calling  to  congratulate  him.  South  Caro- 
lina has  seceded,  and,  oh,  Captain,  we  will  have  a 
glorious  monarchy,  and  you  must  join  us." 

"  And  be  made  Duke  of  Benedict  Arnold  ?  " 

"Nonsense!"  she  exclaimed,  "we  will  make 
you  an  admiral." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Lieutenant  Porter,  "  Admiral 
of  the  Blue.  For  I  should  feel  blue  enough  to  see 
everything  turned  upside  down,  and  our  boasted 
liberty  and  civilization  whistled  down  the  wind." 

"  What  would  you  have  ? "  she  inquired. 
"  Would  you  have  us  tamely  submit  to  all  the  in- 
dignities the  North  puts  upon  us,  and  place  our 
necks  under  their  feet  ?  Why,  this  very  day  my 
blood  boiled  while  I  was  in  Congress,  and  I  could 
scarcely  contain  myself.  An  old  black  Republican 
was  berating  the  Southern  people  as  if  they  were  a 
pack  of  naughty  children.  However,  Mr.  Rhett 
took  the  floor  and  gave  the  man  such  a  castigation 
that  he  slunk  away  and  was  no  more  heard  from." 

Just  then  they  reached  the  White  House. 
"Come  in,"  said  the  lady,  "and  hear  me  tell  the 
President  the  good  news." 


H4         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

Lieutenant  Porter  preferred  returning  to  her 
house.  There  he  found  a  crowd  around  a  generous 
bowl  of  punch.  When  he  had  an  opportunity,  he 
asked  the  host  if  he  thought  it  possible  the  South- 
ern states  would  secede.  "  What  more  do  they 
want  ? "  he  inquired.  "  They  have  a  majority  in 
the  Senate  and  the  House,  and,  with  the  Supreme 
Court  on  their  side,  they  could  make  laws  to  suit 
themselves." 

"  True,"  his  host  replied,  "  most  people  would  be 
satisfied  with  that.  c  Better  to  bear  the  ills  we  have 
than  fly  to  others  that  we  know  not  of.'  But  you 
will  join  us  ?  You  must  I  We  will  have  a  navy  to 
be  proud  of,  and  we'll  make  you  admiral." 

"There's  one  comfort,"  said  an  old  society  dame 
who  now  joined  the  party.  "  South  Carolina  is  a 
fickle  young  thing  and  may  change  her  mind  !  She 
declared  herself  ready  once  before  to  walk  out, — 
you  all  remember  it,  —  and  changed  her  mind.  She 
took  off  her  things  and  concluded  to  stay  a  little 
longer." 

"  She  has  gone  for  good  and  all  this  time,  depend 
upon  it,"  said  the  host.  "  She  was  only  giving 
warning  then  !  Her  time  is  up  now  and  she  is  off." 

Meanwhile  the  lady  of  the  house  was  telling  the 
President  news  that  was  no  news  to  him.  He  was 
fully  prepared  to  receive  it  calmly  and  gravely.  I 
had  preceded  her  by  some  hours. 

Lieutenant  Porter  little  dreamed  of  the  good  for- 
tune the  secession  of  South  Carolina  would  bring 
to  him.  From  a  poor  lieutenant  with  anxious  cares 
about  a  large  family,  he  was  speedily  raised  by  Mr. 


New  Year's  Day  in  Washington  115 

Lincoln  to  the  proud  position  of  rear-admiral  of 
the  United  States. 

His  own  comment  upon  the  enthusiasm  of  his 
Southern  friends  is  amusing.  He  declared  that  if 
the  capital  and  its  surroundings  had  been  less 
stupid,  that  if  those  vivacious  Southerners  could 
have  had  a  court,  theatres,  and  opera-houses,  the 
catastrophe  which  overwhelmed  North  and  South 
might  have  been  prevented.  "The  Romans 
understood  these  things  better  than  we.  They 
omitted  nothing  to  keep  the  people  amused ;  they 
even  had  the  street  fountains  at  times  run  with  wine, 
and  the  investment  was  worth  the  money  spent." 
"  But  what,"  said  Admiral  Porter,  "  could  one  ex- 
pect at  a  court  presided  over  by  an  old  bachelor 
whose  heart  was  dead  to  poetry  and  love ;  who  sat 
at  dinner  with  no  flowers  to  grace  the  festive  board, 
and  never  even  had  a  boutonntere  on  his  coat 
lapel  ? "  which  was  one  way,  at  least,  of  accounting 
for  things. 

Of  course,  we  all  paid  our  respects  to  the  Presi- 
dent on  the  next  New  Year's  Day,  and  joined  the 
motley  crowd  of  men  and  women  of  every  degree 
who  were  admitted  after  the  starred  and  beribboned 
dignitaries  from  foreign  lands  had  been  received. 
"  Here  I  am,  Mr.  President,"  said  one  of  the 
witty  Southern  women,  "and  my  cook  will  be 
here  in  a  few  minutes !  I  left  her  dressing  to 


come." 


The  day  that  ushered  in  the  eventful  year  1861 
was  gloomy  out  of  doors,  but  within  the  Executive 
Mansion  flowers,  music,  gay  attire,  and  bright  smiles 


1 1 6          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

ruled  the  hour.  "  I  wish  you  a  happy  New  Year, 
Mr.  President,"  fell  from  every  lip,  but  in  every 
heart  there  was  a  gloomy  foreboding  of  impending 
disaster.  What  would  the  year  bring  to  the  "  way- 
ward sister,"  whose  sons  had  all  gone  home?  How 
we  missed  them!  —  Mr.  Porcher  Miles,  Mr.  Boyce, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Keitt,  always  so  delightful  a  part 
of  our  Washington  social  life.  Some  of  us  might 
expect  to  return ;  but  this  was  adieu,  not  au  revoir, 
to  our  President.  This  was  his  last  New  Year's 
Day  in  the  White  House,  not  his  last  day  of 
perplexity  and  trouble.  Very  soon  more  wayward 
sisters  would  depart,  and  the  hour  he  had  dreaded 
would  "  come  in  his  time." 

There  is  no  time  at  the  President's  New  Year's 
reception  to  gather  in  corners  for  private  talk.  We 
must  hurry  on  our  rounds  to  the  houses  of  the 
Cabinet  and  of  the  foreign  Ministers.  Sending  the 
gentlemen  of  our  party  forward  to  visit  the  Senators' 
wives,  we  hastened  home  to  our  own  punch-bowl. 

I  brewed  a  mighty  bowl  that  last  New  Year's 
Day.  Dr.  Garnett  and  Judge  Scarborough  pre- 
sided over  the  mixing,  to  be  sure  that  the  arrack 
was  proportioned  rightly,  and  that  there  were  just  as 
many  and  no  more  toasted  crab-apples  than  there 
should  be.  I  was  assisted  by  my  friend  Agnes, 
whom  I  love  to  quote,  and  whose  full  name  I 
should  like  to  give,  .except  for  the  reason  that  she 
is  now  living,  and,  being  a  respectable  lady  of  the 
old  school,  is  averse  from  seeing  her  name  in  print. 
In  the  society  journal  occasionally,  apropos  of  the 
opera  or  reception,  perhaps,  but  in  a  book  I  I 
should  never  be  forgiven. 


Parting  Words  in  Congress  117 

Late  in  the  afternoon  my  rooms  were  thronged  — 
with  Virginians  and  Southerners  mainly,  but  with 
some  Northern  friends  as  well,  for  Virginia  was  not 
yet  classed.  Like  Touchstone,  I  was  "  in  a  parlous 
state,"  lest  some  of  my  guests  who  had  already  hon- 
ored many  punch-bowls  should  venture  on  forbidden 
subjects.  More  than  one  came  in  on  the  arm  of 
James,  but  it  took  a  better  man  than  James  to  con- 
duct him  out  again  and  into  his  carriage.  My 
friend  who  had  distinguished  himself  at  my  first 
President's  dinner  was  in  high  feather,  as  were  some 
grave  judges  I  knew. 

There  was  but  one  thought  in  every  mind,  gay 
or  sober.  "  Is  this  a  meeting  of  the  Girondists  ?  " 
queried  one. 

"When  shall  we  three  meet  again  ?  " 
quoted  another. 

"When  the  hurly-burly 's  done  — 
When  the  battle's  lost  and  won/' 

was  the  prompt  answer.  "  Sh-h-h !  "  said  an  old 
army  officer.  "  It  is  not  lucky  to  talk  of  lost  battles 
on  New  Year's  Day,  nor  of  Girondists'  feasts  on  the 
eve  of  a  revolution." 

The  season  which  was  always  ushered  in  on  New 
Year's  Day  resolved  itself  literally  this  year  into  a 
residence  in  the  galleries  of  the  Senate  Chamber  and 
the  House  of  Representatives. 

Before  the  2st  of  February,  Mississippi,  Florida, 
Alabama,  Georgia,  Louisiana,  and  Texas  had  dis- 
solved their  bonds  with  the  Federal  Union.  The 


1 1 8          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

farewell  addresses  of  the  Representatives  of  the  se- 
ceded states  became  the  regular  order  of  the  day. 
Jefferson  Davis's  final  farewell  closed  with  these 
solemn  words :  "  May  God  have  us  in  His  holy 
keeping,  and  grant  that,  before  it  is  too  late,  peace- 
ful counsels  may  prevail." 

Virginia,  had  she  retained  her  original  colonial 
bounds,  could  have  dictated  to  the  rest.  Now, 
should  she  elect  to  join  the  Southern  Confederacy, 
the  states  she  had  given  to  the  Union  —  her  own 
children  —  would  be  arrayed  against  her. 

Virginia  now  essayed  to  arbitrate.  Her  Peace 
Commission  met  in  Washington,  but  without  result, 
except  that  it  was  for  her  a  fleeting  moment  of 
enthusiasm. 

Mr.  Kellogg  of  Illinois  said :  "  She  has  thrown 
herself  into  the  breach  to  turn  aside  the  tide  of  dis- 
union and  revolution,  and  she  says  to  the  nation, c  Be 
united  and  be  brothers  again/  God  bless  the  Old 
Dominion  ! "  Said  Mr.  Bigler  of  Pennsylvania,  Jan- 
uary 21  :  "Pennsylvania  will  never  become  the  en- 
emy of  Virginia  !  Pennsylvania  will  never  draw  the 
sword  on  Virginia." 

Apprehension  was  felt  lest  the  new  President's 
inaugural  might  be  the  occasion  of  rioting,  if  not 
of  violence.  We  were  advised  to  send  our  women 
and  children  out  of  the  city.  Hastily  packing  my 
personal  and  household  belongings  to  be  sent  after 
me,  I  took  my  little  boys,  with  their  faithful  nurse, 
Eliza  Page,  on  board  the  steamer  to  Acquia  Creek, 
and,  standing  on  deck  as  long  as  I  could  see  the 
dome  of  the  Capitol,  commenced  my  journey  home- 


The  Setting  Sun  of  a  Happy  Day         119 

ward.  My  husband  remained  behind,  and  kept  his 
seat  in  Congress  until  Mr.  Lincoln's  inauguration. 
He  described  that  mournful  day  to  me  —  differing 
so  widely  from  the  happy  installation  of  Mr.  Pierce. 
"  O'er  all  there  hung  a  shadow  and  a  fear."  Every 
one  was  oppressed  by  it,  and  no  one  more  than  the 
doomed  President  himself. 

We  were  reunited  a  few  weeks  afterward  at  our 
father's  house  in  Petersburg ;  and  in  a  short  time 
my  young  Congressman  had  become  my  young 
colonel  —  and  Congressman  as  well,  for  as  soon 
as  Virginia  seceded  he  was  elected  to  the  Provisional 
Congress  of  the  Confederate  States  of  America,  and 
was  commissioned  colonel  by  Governor  Letcher. 

I  am  afraid  the  evening  is  at  hand,  when  we  must 
bid  adieu  to  the  bright  days  —  the  balls,  the  merry 
hair-dresser,  the  round  of  visits,  the  levees,  the  charm- 
ing "  at  homes."  The  setting  sun  of  such  a  day 
should  pillow  itself  on  golden  clouds,  bright  har- 
bingers of  a  morning  of  beauty  and  happiness. 
Alas,  alas !  "  whom  the  gods  destroy  they  first 
infatuate." 


CHAPTER  IX 

RAPID    PROGRESS    OF    EVENTS    AT    THE    SOUTH 

WHEN  it  was  disclosed  that  a  majority  of 
the  Virginia  Convention  opposed  taking 
the  state  out  of  the  Union,  the  secession- 
ists became  greatly  alarmed;  for  they  knew  that 
without  the  border  states,  of  which  Virginia  was  the 
leader,  the  cotton  states  would  be  speedily  crushed. 
They  were  positively  certain,  however,  that,  in  the 
event  of  actual  hostilities,  Virginia  would  unite  with 
her  Southern  associates.  Accordingly,  it  was  deter- 
mined to  bring  a  popular  pressure  to  bear  upon  the 
government  at  Montgomery  to  make  an  assault 
on  Fort  Sumter.  To  that  end  my  husband  went 
to  Charleston,  and  delivered  to  an  immense  and 
enthusiastic  audience,  a  most  impassioned  and  ve- 
hement speech,  urging  the  Southern  troops  to  "  strike 
a  blow,"  and  assuring  them  that  in  case  of  conflict, 
Virginia  would  secede  "  within  an  hour  by  Shrews- 
bury clock."  The  blow  was  struck ;  Mr.  Lincoln 
\lled  upon  Virginia  for  a  quota  of  troops  to  subdue 
».  rebellion,  and  the  state  immediately  passed  an 

nance  of  secession. 

Q  wf  Pry  or,  with  other  gentlemen,  was  deputed  by 
r  rt  1  Beauregard  to  demand  the  surrender  of  the 
J  I  in  case  of  the  refusal  which  he  foresaw, 

120 


Fall  of  Fort  Sumter  —  Peace  Ambassadors      121 

to  direct  the  commandant  of  battery,  Johnson,  to 
open  fire.  When  the  order  was  delivered  to  the 
commandant,  he  invited  my  husband  to  fire  the  first 
shot ;  but  this  honor  my  husband  declined,  and  in- 
stead suggested  the  venerable  Edmund  Ruffin,  an 
intense  secessionist,  for  that  service.  It  was  the 
prevalent  impression  at  the  time,  that  Mr.  Ruffin 
did  "fire  the  first  gun";  at  all  events  he  fired,  to 
him,  the  last ;  for  on  hearing  of  Lee's  surrender 
Cato-like,  he  destroyed  himself. 

I  have  often  wondered  what  would  have  been  the 
effect  upon  the  fortunes  of  our  own  family,  had  my 
husband  fired  the  shot  that  ushered  in  the  war. 
Even  had  his  life  been  spared,  he  certainly  would 
not  have  become  an  eminent  lawyer  in  the  state  of 
New  York  and  a  justice  of  its  Supreme  Court. 

Fort  Sumter  was  reduced  on  April  12,  and 
Virginia  was  in  a  wild  state  of  excitement  and  con- 
fusion. 

The  deputation  sent  to  Washington  in  the  in- 
terests of  peace  had  failed  in  its  mission.  The 
Convention  of  1861  was  in  session  at  Richmond 
as  early  as  April  1 1  —  sitting  with  closed  doors. 
The  people  were  wrought  to  the  highest  pitch  of 
anxiety  lest  the  conservative  spirit  of  the  older  men 
should  triumph  and  should  lead  them  to  prefer  sub- 
mission, which  would  mean  dishonor,  to  secession, 
which  could  mean  nothing  worse  than  death. 

Business  was  practically  suspended  in  Richmond 
and  Petersburg  ;  men  crowded  the  streets  to  learn 
the  latest  news  from  the  North,  and  were  inflamed 
by  reports  of  the  arrest  and  incarceration  in  Fort 


122          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

Lafayette  of  Southern  sympathizers.  As  crowds 
gathered  in  different  localities  the  advocates  of  seces- 
sion addressed  them  in  impassioned  speeches  which 
met  with  hearty  response  from  the  people. 

On  April  1 6,  a  body,  calling  itself  the  Spon- 
taneous People's  Convention,  met  and  organized  in 
the  Metropolitan  Hall  at  Richmond.  The  door 
was  kept  by  a  guard  with  a  drawn  sword  in  his 
hand.  David  Chalmers  of  Halifax  County  was 
president,  and  Willoughby  Newton,  vice-president. 

Patrick  Henry  Aylett,  grandson  of  Patrick  Henry, 
made  a  noble  speech,  urging  moderation  and  delay ; 
warmer  speeches  followed.  A  Southern  flag  was 
raised  on  the  capitol  amid  shouts  of  applause,  but  at 
midnight  the  governor  had  it  removed,  for  the 
convention  had  not  yet  passed  the  ordinance  of 
secession,  and  those  who  rose  with  the  dawn  of  the 
next  eventful  day  found  the  state  flag  calmly  float- 
ing in  its  place. 

I  was  a  guest  of  the  government  house  at  this 
time,  and  in  the  calm  and  seclusion  of  Mrs.  Letcher's 
rooms  I  missed  much  of  the  excitement.  She  was 
a  motherly,  domestic  woman,  who  chose  to  ignore 
outside  disturbances  for  the  sake  of  present  peace. 
We  talked  together  of  family  matters,  as  we  sewed 
upon  little  gowns  and  pinafores,  indulged  in  remi- 
niscences of  the  Washington  life  which  we  had  en- 
joyed together,  and  said  very  little  of  the  troubles 
of  the  hour.  Mrs.  Letcher  thought  the  political 
storm  must  pass.  It  was  hard  to  bear;  the  gov- 
ernor was  nervous  and  sleeping  badly,  but  quiet 
would  surely  come,  and  when  it  did  —  why,  then, 


Virginia  passes  Ordinance  of  Secession       123 

we  would  all  go  down  to  Old  Point  Comfort  for 
June,  bathe  in  the  sea,  and  get  strong  and  well. 
As  for  righting  —  it  would  never  come  to  that ! 

On  the  memorable  day  of  the  iyth  the  "Spon- 
taneous Convention "  again  met  to  discuss  a  new 
political  organization  of  the  state.  While  they 
argued  and  struggled,  Lieutenant-Governor  Mon- 
tague entered  the  hall  with  momentous  news.  An 
ordinance  of  secession  had  been  passed  by  the 
State  Convention.  This  announcement  was  fol- 
lowed by  a  thrilling  moment  of  silence  succeeded 
by  tears  of  gladness  and  deafening  shouts  of  applause. 
The  venerable  ex-President  Tyler  made  a  stirring 
address.  He  gave  a  brief  history  of  the  struggles  of 
the  English  race  from  the  days  of  the  Magna  Charta 
to  the  present  time,  and  solemnly  declared  that  at 
no  period  of  the  history  of  our  race  had  we  ever 
been  engaged  in  a  more  just  and  holy  effort  for  the 
maintenance  of  liberty  and  independence  than  at  the 
present  moment.  The  career  of  the  dominant  party 
at  the  North  was  but  a  series  of  aggressions  which 
fully  warranted  our  eternal  separation ;  and  if  we 
performed  our  duty  as  Christian  patriots,  the  same 
God  who  favored  the  cause  of  our  forefathers  in  the 
Revolution  of  1776  would  crown  our  efforts  with 
success.  Generations  yet  unborn  would  bless  those 
who  had  the  high  privilege  of  participating  in-  the 
present  struggle.  A  passionate  speech  followed  from 
ex-Governor  Wise.  He  alluded  to  a  rumor  that 
one  of  his  children  had  been  seized  and  held  as  hos- 
tage at  the  North.  "  But,"  he  said,  "  if  they  sup- 
pose hostages  of  my  own  heart's  blood  will  stay  my 


124         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

hand  in  the  maintenance  of  sacred  rights,  they  are 
mistaken.  Affection  for  kindred,  property,  and  life 
itself  sink  into  insignificance  in  comparison  with  the 
overwhelming  importance  of  public  duty  in  such  a 
crisis  as  this.  Virginia  is  smitten  with  blindness,  in 
that  she  does  not  at  once  seize  Washington  before 
the  Republican  hordes  get  possession  of  it."  The 
Hon.  J.  M.  Mason  and  others  followed  in  the  same 
strain.  Governor  Letcher  appeared,  and  pledged 
himself  to  discharge  his  whole  duty  as  executive  of 
the  state  in  conformity  with  the  will  of  the  people 
and  the  provisions  of  the  constitution.  The  ordi- 
nance could  not  become  a  law  until  it  was  ratified  by 
the  people  —  and  they  would  be  called  to  vote  upon 
it  on  May  23.  "Not  until  then,"  said  an  ex- 
Congressman,  "will  those  fellows  in  Washington 
know  we  are  Secessionists  !  "  "  Never  as  Secession- 
ists !"  said  another;  "I  detest  the  word.  We 
are  revolutionists,  —  rebels,  as  our  fathers  were." 
"  But  perhaps,"  ventured  one  of  the  old  Washing- 
ton coterie,  to  Mr.  Hunter,  "  perhaps  the  people 
will  not  vote  us  out  of  the  Union  after  all."  "  My 
dear  lady,"  said  the  ex-Senator,  proudly,  "  you  may 
place  your  little  hand  against  Niagara  with  more  cer- 
tainty of  staying  the  torrent  than  you  can  oppose 
this  movement.  It  was  written  long  ago  in  the 
everlasting  stars  that  the  South  would  be  driven  out 
of  the  Union  by  the  North." 

The  fate  of  Virginia  had  been  decided  April  15, 
when  President  Lincoln  demanded  troops  for  the 
subjugation  of  the  seceding  states  of  the  South. 
The  temper  of  Governor  Letcher  of  Virginia  was 


Rally  of  Virginians  125 

precisely  in  accord  with  the  spirit  that  prompted 
Governor  Magoffin  of  Kentucky  to  answer  to  a 
similar  call  for  state  militia :  "  Kentucky  will  fur- 
nish no  troops  for  the  wicked  purpose  of  subduing 
her  sister  Southern  states  !  "  Until  this  call  of  the 
President,  Virginia  had  been  extremely  averse  from 
secession,  and  even  though  she  deemed  it  within  her 
rights  to  leave  the  Union,  she  did  not  wish  to  pledge 
herself  to  join  the  Confederate  States  of  the  South. 
Virginia  was  the  Virginian's  Country.  The  com- 
mon people  were  wont  to  speak  of  her  as  "The  Old 
Mother."  "The  mother  of  us  all,"  a  mother  so 
honored  and  loved  that  her  brood  of  children  must 
be  noble  and  true. 

Her  sons  had  never  forgotten  her !  She  had 
fought  nobly  in  the  Revolution  and  had  afterward 
surrendered,  for  the  common  good,  her  magnificent 
territory.  Had  she  retained  this  vast  dominion,  she 
could  now  have  dictated  to  all  the  other  states.  She 
gave  it  up  from  a  pure  spirit  of  patriotism  —  that 
there  might  be  the  fraternity  which  could  not  exist 
without  equality,  —  and  in  surrendering  it,  she  had 
reserved  for  herself  the  right  to  withdraw  from  the 
Confederation  whenever  she  should  deem  it  ex- 
pedient for  her  own  welfare.  There  were  leading 
spirits  who  thought  the  hour  had  come  when  she 
might  demand  her  right.  She  was  not  on  a  plane 
with  the  other  states  of  the  Union.  "  Virginia,  New 
York,  and  Massachusetts  had  expressly  reserved  the 
right  to  withdraw  from  the  Union,  and  explicitly 
disclaimed  the  right  or  power  to  bind  the  hands  of 
posterity  by  any  form  of  government  whatever." 


126          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

And  so  the  question  of  the  hour  with  Virginia 
was  not  the  right  to  introduce  slavery  into  the  ter- 
ritories. Nothing  was  said  or  thought  about  slavery. 
The  question  was  of  states'  rights  only. 

One  need  but  go  back  to  the  original  treaties  with 
France  and  England  in  1778  and  1783,  to  under- 
stand the  origin  and  root  of  this  feeling  with  the 
Virginians  of  1861.  France  had  made  her  treaty  of 
perpetual  alliance  with  the  "  Thirteen  United 
Colonies,"  naming  each  one  separately  as  one  of  the 
contracting  parties.  The  king  of  England  had 
named  each  one  separately  to  be  "  free,  sovereign 
and  independent  states"  and  "that  he  treated  with 
them  as  such." 

Said  old  John  Janney,  a  Union  man  and  president 
of  the  Convention  of  1861,  when  taxed  with  having 
taken  sides  with  Virginia  against  the  Union,  "  Vir- 
ginia, sir,  was  a  nation  one  hundred  and  eighty 
years  before  your  Union  was  born." 

Another  strong  party  was  the  "  Union  Party," 
sternly  resolved  against  secession,  willing  to  run  the 
risks  of  fighting  within  the  Union  for  the  rights  of 
the  state.  This  spirit  was  so  strong,  that  any  hint 
of  secession  had  been  met  with  angry  defiance.  A 
Presbyterian  clergyman  had  ventured,  in  his  morn- 
ing sermon,  a  hint  that  Virginia  might  need  her  sons 
for  defence,  when  a  gray-haired  elder  left  the  church 
and,  turning  at  the  door,  shouted  "  Traitor  !  "  This 
was  in  Petersburg,  the  birthplace  of  General  Win- 
field  Scott. 

And  still  another  party  was  the  enthusiastic  seces- 
sion party,  resolved  upon  resistance  to  coercion  ;  the 


Federal  Troops  enter  Virginia  127 

men  who  could  believe  nothing  good  of  the  North, 
should  interests  of  that  section  conflict  with  those 
of  the  South ;  who  cherished  the  bitterest  resent- 
ments for  all  the  sneers  and  insults  in  Congress ; 
who,  like  the  others,  adored  their  own  state  and  were 
ready  and  willing  to  die  in  her  defence.  Strange  to 
say,  this  was  the  predominating  spirit  all  through 
the  country,  in  rural  districts  as  well  as  in  the  small 
towns  and  the  larger  cities.  It  seemed  to  be  born 
all  at  once  in  every  breast  as  soon  as  Lincoln 
demanded  the  soldiers. 

The  "overt  act"  for  which  everybody  looked 
had  been  really  the  reinforcement  by  Federal  troops 
of  the  fort  in  Charleston  Harbor.  When  Fort 
Sumter  was  reduced  by  Beauregard,  "  the  fight  was 


on." 


On  May  23  Virginia  ratified  an  ordinance  of 
secession,  and  on  the  early  morning  of  May  24 
the  Federal  soldiers,  under  General  Winfield  Scott,1 
crossed  the  Potomac  River  and  occupied  Arlington 
Heights  and  the  city  of  Alexandria.  "  The  inva- 
sion of  Virginia,  the  pollution  of  her  sacred  soil  as 
it  was  termed,  called  forth  a  vigorous  proclamation 
from  her  governor  and  a  cry  of  rage  from  her  press." 
General  Beauregard  issued  a  fierce  proclamation,  tend- 
ing to  fire  the  hearts  of  the  Virginians  with  anger. 
"  A  reckless  and  unprincipled  host,"  he  declared, 
"  has  invaded  your  soil,"  etc.,  etc. 

General  Scott,  our  father's  groomsman,  was  knock- 
ing at  the  doors  of  the  "  fair  ladies  "  he  loved,  with 
the  menace  of  torch  and  sword. 

l  Rhodes,  Vol.  Ill,  p.  435. 


128          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

And  now  there  was  a  mighty  gathering  of  the 
sons  of  "  The  Old  Mother  !  "  She  raised  her  stand- 
ard, "Sic  semper  tyrannis"  and  from  every  quarter 
of  the  globe  they  rallied  to  her  defence,  not  scurrying 
home  for  shelter  from  the  storm,  but  coming  to 
place  their  own  breasts  between  her  and  the  blast, — 
descendants  of  men  who  had  won  freedom  in  1776, 
of  Light  Horse  Harry  Lee,  of  Peter  Johnson, 
Ensign  of  the  Legion,  —  Robert  E.  Lee,  Joseph  E. 
Johnston,  Thomas  Jackson,  "  Jeb "  Stuart,  A.  P. 
Hill,  Muscoe  Garnett,  Rojger  A.  Pryor,  Austin  Smith 
from  far  San  Francisco,  Dr.  Garnett  from  Washing- 
ton, Bradfute  Warwick  from  Naples,  Powhatan 
Clark  from  Louisiana,  Judge  Scarborough  from  the 
Court  of  Claims  at  Washington,  Judge  Campbell, 
Associate  Justice  of  the  Supreme  Court  at  Washing- 
ton, and  multitudes  of  others  !  "  The  very  earth 
trembled  at  the  tramp  of  the  Virginians  as  they 
marched  to  the  assize  of  arms  of  the  Mother  of 
them  all.  From  every  continent,  from  every  clime, 
from  all  avocations,  from  the  bar,  the  pulpit,  the 
counting-room,  the  workshop,  the  Virginians  came. 

"  '  Theirs  not  to  reason  why, 
Theirs  but  to  do  and  die! '  "  l 

Among  them  was  a  descendant  of  old  Sir  Hum- 
phrey Gilbert,  —  him  of  the  sinking  ship  on  his  way 
to  Virginia,  —  who  cried  as  he  went  down :  "  Be  of 
good  cheer,  my  friends  !  It  is  as  near  heaven  by 
sea  as  by  land." 

1  "Life  of  Joseph  E.  Johnston,"  by  General  Bradley  Johnson,  p.  32. 


Enthusiasm  of  Virginia  Women  129 

And  among  them  were  some  who  quoted  old  Sir 
George  Somers  of  the  Sea  Venture,  who  drew  around 
him  his  crew  and  exhorted  them  to  "  be  true  to  duty 
and  to  return  to  Virginia." 

General  Bradley  Johnson  says  these  words  of  the 
old  knight  rang  like  a  trumpet  all  over  the  country 
in  the  early  days  of  the  war  wherever  there  was  a 
Virginian.  "  Be  true  to  duty  and  return  to  Vir- 
ginia !  "  And  few,  very  few,  failed  to  obey  the  call. 

It  is  well  known  that  General  Lee  did  not 
approve  the  hasty,  ill-considered  action  of  the  early 
seceders  from  the  Union.  He  foresaw  the  perils 
and  doubtful  results  of  such  action.  He  knew  that 
war  —  as  my  own  husband  had  so  earnestly  said  in 
Congress  —  "  meant  widows  and  orphans,  the  pun- 
ishment of  the  innocent,  the  ruin  of  the  fortunes  of 
all."  Still,  the  "Old  Mother"  had  been  forced  to 
accept  it  at  the  hands  of  others.  The  simple  ques- 
tion was  :  "  With  or  against  blood  and  kin  ?  For 
or  against  the  Old  Mother  ? "  And  the  question 
answered  itself  in  the  asking. 

I  am  sure  that  no  soldier  enlisted  under  Virginia's 
banner  could  possibly  be  more  determined  than  the 
young  women  of  the  state.  They  were  uncom- 
promising. 

"  You  promised  me  my  answer  to-night,"  said  a 
fine  young  fellow,  who  had  not  yet  enlisted,  to 
his  sweetheart. 

"  Well,  you  can't  have  it,  Ben,  until  you  have 
fought  the  Yankees,"  said  pretty  Helen. 

"  What  heart  will  I  have  for  fighting  if  you  gjive 
me  no  promise  ?  " 


ijo         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

"  I'll  not  be  engaged  to  any  man  until  he  has 
/ought  the  Yankees,"  said  Helen,  firmly.  "  You 
distinguish  yourself  in  the  war,  and  then  see  what 
I'll  have  to  say  to  you." 

This  was  the  stand  they  took  in  Richmond  and 
Petersburg.  Engagements  were  postponed  until 
they  could  find  of  what  mettle  a  lover  was. 

"  But  suppose  I  don't  come  back  at  all !  "  sug- 
gested Ben. 

"  Oh,  then  Til  acknowledge  an  engagement  and 
be  good  to  your  mother,  —  and  wear  mourning  all 
the  same — provided — your  wounds  are  all  in 
front." 

A  few  days  before  the  vote  was  taken  upon  the 
ordinance  of  secession  we  had  a  fine  fright  in  Rich- 
mond. An  alarm  was  rung  in  the  Capitol  Square, 
and  thousands  of  people  filled  the  streets  to  learn 
the  cause  of  its  warning.  Presently  notices  were 
posted  all  over  the  city  that  the  Pawnee  —  a  war-ship 
of  the  United  States  —  was  steaming  up  the  James 
River  with  the  purpose  of  shelling  the  mansions  on 
the  banks,  and  of  finally  firing  on  Richmond.  We 
had  friends  living  in  those  fine  colonial  mansions 
all  along  the  river,  —  at  Claremont,  Upper  and 
Lower  Brandon,  Shirley,  Westover,  —  dear  old  ladies 
who  were  unprotected,  and  would  be  frightened  to 
death.  For  ourselves  in  Richmond  and  Petersburg 
there  would  be  no  personal  danger,  we  could 
escape ;  but  our  mills  and  shipping  would  be 
destroyed. 

I  think  I  am  within  the  bounds  of  truth  when  I 
say  that  every  man  and  boy  capable  of  bearing  gun 


Mustering  into  Service  131 

or  pistol  marched  with  the  soldiers  and  artillery 
down  to  the  riverside,  determined  to  defend  the  city. 
There  they  waited  until  the  evening,  the  howitzers 
firing  from  time  to  time  to  forewarn  the  war-ship  of 
their  presence. 

A  little  after  sunset  the  crowd  turned  its  face 
homeward.  News  had  been  received  that  the 
Pawnee  had  steamed  up  the  river  a  short  distance, 
had  thought  better  of  it,  and  had  turned  around  and 
gone  back  to  her  mooring.  All  the  same  one  thing 
was  certain,  the  war-ship  "  bristling  with  guns  "  was 
there.  She  could  steam  up  the  river  any  night,  and 
probably  would  when  it  pleased  her  so  to  do. 

When  I  returned  to  my  father's  home  in  Peters- 
burg, I  found  my  friends  possessed  with  an  intense 
spirit  of  patriotism.  The  First,  Second,  and  Third 
Virginia  were  already  mustered  into  service ;  my 
husband  was  colonel  of  the  Third  Virginia  Infantry. 
The  men  were  to  be  equipped  for  service  immedi- 
ately. All  of  "the  boys"  were  going  —  the  three 
Mays,  Will  Johnson,  Berry  Stainback,  Ned  Gra- 
ham, all  the  young,  dancing  set,  the  young  lawyers 
and  doctors  —  everybody,  in  short,  except  bank 
presidents,  druggists,  a  doctor  or  two  (over  age),  and 
young  boys  under  sixteen. 

To  be  idle  was  torture.  We  women  resolved 
ourselves  into  a  sewing  society  —  resting  not  on 
Sundays.  Sewing-machines  were  put  into  the 
churches,  which  became  depots  for  flannel,  muslin, 
strong  linen,  and  even  uniform  cloth.  When  the 
hour  for  meeting  arrived,  the  sewing  class  would  be 
summoned  by  the  ringing  of  the  church  bell.  My 


132          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

dear  Agnes  was  visiting  in  Petersburg,  and  was  my 
faithful  ally  in  all  my  work.  We  instituted  a  mon- 
ster sewing  class,  which  we  hugely  enjoyed,  to  meet 
daily  at  my  home  on  Market  Street.  My  Colonel 
was  to  be  fitted  out  as  never  was  colonel  before. 
He  was  ordered  to  Norfolk  with  his  regiment  to 
protect  the  seaboard.  I  was  proud  of  his  colonel- 
ship,  and  much  exercised  because  he  had  no 
shoulder-straps.  I  undertook  to  embroider  them 
myself.  We  had  not  then  decided  upon  the  star 
for  our  colonels'  insignia,  and  I  supposed  he 
would  wear  the  eagle  like  all  the  colonels  I  had 
ever  known.  No  embroidery  bullion  was  to  be  had, 
but  I  bought  heavy  bullion  fringe,  cut  it  in  lengths, 
and  made  eagles,  probably  of  some  extinct  species, 
for  the  like  were  unknown  in  Audubon's  time,  and 
have  not  since  been  discovered.  However,  they 
were  accepted,  admired,  and,  what  is  worse,  worn. 

The  Confederate  soldier  was  furnished  at  the  be- 
ginning of  the  war  with  a  gun,  pistol,  canteen,  tin 
cup,  haversack,  and  knapsack  —  no  inconsiderable 
weight  to  be  borne  in  a  march.  The  knapsack  con- 
tained a  fatigue  jacket,  one  or  two  blankets,  an  oil- 
cloth, several  suits  of  underclothing,  several  pairs 
of  white  gloves,  collars,  neckties,  and  handkerchiefs. 
Each  mess  purchased  a  mess-chest  containing  dishes, 
bowls,  plates,  knives,  forks,  spoons,  cruets,  spice- 
boxes,  glasses,  etc.  'Each  mess  also  owned  a  fry- 
ing-pan, oven,  coffee-pot,  and  camp-kettle.  The 
uniforms  were  of  the  finest  cadet  cloth  and  gold 
lace. 

This  outfit  —  although  not  comparable  to  that  of 


Soldiers'  Outfits  made  by  Virginia  Women    133 

the  Federal  soldiers,  many  of  whom  had  "Saratoga" 
trunks  in  the  baggage  train,  was  considered  sump- 
tuous by  the  Confederate  volunteer. 

As  if  these  were  not  enough,  we  taxed  our  in- 
genuity to  add  sundry  comforts,  weighing  little,  by 
which  we  might  give  a  touch  of  refinement  to  the 
soldier's  knapsack. 

There  was  absolutely  nothing  which  a  man  might 
possibly  use  that  we  did  not  make  for  them.  We 
embroidered  cases  for  razors,  for  soap  and  sponge, 
and  cute  morocco  affairs  for  needles,  thread,  and 
court-plaster,  with  a  little  pocket  lined  with  a  bank- 
note. "  How  perfectly  ridiculous  !  "  do  you  say  ? 
Nothing  is  ridiculous  that  helps  anxious  women  to 
bear  their  lot  —  cheats  them  with  the  hope  that  they 
are  doing  good. 


CHAPTER   X 


VIRGINIA    AGAIN    THE    BATTLE-GROUND 

THE  day  came  at   last   when    our   regiments 
were  to  march.     They  were  to  rendezvous 
at  the  head  of  Sycamore  Street,  and  march 
down  to  the  lower  depot.     Every  old  man  and  boy, 
matron,   maiden,  and  child,  every    family    servant, 
assembled  to  bid  them  God-speed. 

The  reigning  belles  and  beauties  of  Petersburg 
were  all  there,  —  Alice  Gregory,  Tabb  Boiling, 
Molly  and  Augusta  Banister,  Patty  Hardee,  Mary 
and  Marion  Meade,  pretty  Helen,  and  my  own 
friend  Agnes. 

"  We  are  not  to  cry,  you  know,"  said  Agnes,  lay- 
ing down  the  law  by  right  of  seniority. 

"  Of  course  not !  "  said  Helen,  winking  away  her 
tears  and  smiling. 

Just  then  the  inspiring  notes  of  "  Dixie,"  with 
drum  and  clash  of  cymbal,  rent  the  air  —  the  first 
time  I  had  heard  that  battle-song. 

"  Forward!  March!  "  And  they  were  moving  in 
solid  ranks,  all  of  us  keeping  step  on  the  sidewalk, 
down  to  the  depot. 

When  the  men  were  on  board,  and  the  wheels 
began  to  move,  Ben  leaned  out  of  his  window  and 
whispered  to  Helen,  just  below  him  :  — 

134 


Enthusiastic  Welcome  to  Beauregard        135 

"  Can't  I  have  the  promise  now,  Helen  ?  " 

"Yes,  yes,  Ben  —  dear  Ben,  I  promise!"  and  as 
the  cars  rolled  away  she  turned  and  calmly  an- 
nounced, "  Girls,  I'm  engaged  to  Ben  Shepard." 

"I'm  engaged  to  half  a  dozen  of  them,"  said  one. 

"That's  nothing,"  said  another,  "I'm  engaged  to 
the  whole  regiment." 

Poor  little  Helen  —  but  I  must  not  anticipate. 

After  the  soldiers  left,  silence  and  anxiety  fell 
upon  the  town  like  a  pall.  What  should  we  do 
next  ?  This  was  the  question  we  asked  each  other ; 
and  it  was  answered  by  one  of  our  dear  women. 

"  We  will  hold  a  prayer  meeting  in  each  other's 
houses,  at  four  o'clock  every  afternoon.  We  can 
pray,  if  we  cannot  fight." 

This  meeting  was  held  daily  throughout  the  years 
of  the  war  —  and  comfort  through  its  influence  came 
to  many  a  sorrowful  heart. 

But  the  lull  was  of  short  duration.  The  South  was 
sending  troops  to  help  old  Virginia. 

I  think  Beauregard's  veterans  can  never  forget 
their  reception  in  Petersburg.  We  were  forewarned 
of  their  coming.  We  sent  our  servants  laden  with 
trays  of  refreshments,  we  went  ourselves  to  the 
depot  with  flowers.  Beauregard,  our  idol,  the 
gallant,  dashing  Beauregard,  hurriedly  shook  hands 
with  us  and  filled  his  arms  with  our  flowers ;  then,  — 
"All  aboard,"  —  and  off  again,  to  be  heard  from 
very  soon  at  Bull  Run. 

Other  regiments  passed  through  town,  and  none 
left  without  being  refreshed.  The  railroad  whistles 
instructed  us  as  to  numbers. 


ij 6  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

It  was  a  happy  day  for  me  when  a  telegram  came 
from  my  Colonel  at  Norfolk :  "  Suppose  you  pay 
me  a  visit !  "  There  could  be  but  one  answer. 

When  the  day  of  my  departure  arrived  I  was  at 
the  depot  of  the  train  which  was  to  take  me  to  City 
Point,  long  before  the  time  of  starting ;  and  when  I 
reached  the  terminus  of  the  short  railroad,  I  was  in 
terror  lest  the  Richmond  boat  might  have  gone  on 
its  way  without  stopping  for  us.  Would  it  never 
come  ?  Surely  something  had  happened  !  "  Oh, 
Captain,"  I  cried  for  the  third  time,  as  that  function- 
ary paced  to  and  fro  in  front  of  his  little  engine, 
"  do  you  think  the  boat  —  "  "  In  a  moment,  lady,'1 
said  the  Captain,  "  the  boat  is  just  coming  round  the 
Point ;  "  and  sure  enough,  there  she  was,  slowing  up 
to  pick  up  the  happiest  woman  in  the  world. 

I  can  imagine  few  journeys  more  delightful  than  a 
sail  down  the  James  River  on  a  lovely  summer  day. 
The  river  itself  is  not  a  clear  stream  of  silver  like 
the  Potomac.  Every  stream  that  enters  it  is  yellow 
with  the  peculiar  clay  of  the  country  through  which 
it  passes.  But  the  James  is,  par  excellence,  the  roman- 
tic river  of  our  country,  though  not  like  the  beauti- 
ful Hudson,  misty  with  the  dreams  of  Washington 
Irving.  The  historic  James  needs  no  imaginings  to 
enhance  its  charm.  Seated  on  the  forward  deck,  one 
glides  softly  over  enchanted  waters.  Could  the 
veil  which  hides  the  future  have  been  lifted  from  my 
vision  on  this  glorious  noonday,  what  would  have 
been  my  sensations.  Here  at  City  Point,  in  the 
venerable  ivy-clad  home  of  the  Epes  family,  General 
Grant  would  in  three  short  years  make  his  head- 


Randolphs  and  Ishams  137 

quarters,  and  would  entertain  President  Lincoln, 
General  Sherman,  and  Admiral  Porter. 

Across  the  river  the  elegant  colonial  house  of 
Shirley  was  basking  in  the  summer  sun.  Here  the 
Carters  had  lived  since  1720.  Here  Light  Horse 
Harry  Lee  had  found  his  sweet  wife,  Anne  Hill 
Carter.  Here,  too,  was  the  fine  portrait  of  Washing- 
ton by  Peale,  and  other  Revolutionary  treasures. 

Next  to  Shirley,  a  little  higher  up  the  river,  was 
Turkey  Island,  where  the  English  explorers  had 
rejoiced  to  find,  in  great  numbers,  the  Christmas 
bird,  known  in  the  mother  country  as  early  as  1527. 
Here  had  lived  the  wealthy  king's  councilman, 
William  Randolph,  who  had  come  to  Virginia  in 
the  good  times  after  King  Charlie  had  returned  to 
"  enjoy  his  own  again " ;  and  here  he  had  built  a 
goodly  house,  with  a  portico  on  three  sides,  sur- 
mounted by  a  dome  visible  a  great  way  off  to 
navigators  of  the  James  River,  the  whole  sur- 
mounted by  an  aerial  structure  called  the  "  bird  cage 
because  many  birds  do  hover  and  sing  about  it." 
Seven  years  were  required  to  complete  this  mansion 
—  and  all  these  seven  years,  doubtless,  its  master 
was  serving  like  Jacob,  hoping  to  cage  one  fair  bird 
for  himself. 

Just  across  the  river,  at  Bermuda  Hundred,  lived 
Henry  Isham,  Gent :  and  his  wife  Dame  Katherine  ; 
and  thither  came  William  Randolph  to  smoke  with 
the  master  "  a  pipe  of  tobacco  kept  in  a  lily  pot, 
cut  on  a  maple  block,  lighted  with  a  coal  taken  with 
silver  tongs  from  a  brasier  of  juniper"  —  for  these 
were  the  incantations  wherewith  the  early  Virginian 


138  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

wooed  the  subtle  influences  of  the  new  gift  of  the 
gods.  And  as  they  smoked,  pretty  Mary  Isham 
played  on  her  "  cittern  "  to  the  soothing  accompani- 
ment of  the  lapping  waves  of  the  river.  She  was  a 
fit  mate  for  the  young  aristocrat.  He  could  trace 
his  lineage  "  from  the  great  Earls  Murray,  nay,  from 
royalty  itself";  but  gentle  Mary  could  boast  on 
her  family  tree  nobler  fruit  than  these  :  the  Dukes  of 
Normandy  —  Longue-Epee  and  Sanspeur — Hugh 
Capet  of  France ;  the  Saxon  kings  of  England ;  the 
Magna  Charta  barons ;  and  that  noble  house  of 
De  Vere,  which  bore  on  its  standard  the  lone  star, 
because  one  of  their  blood,  hard  pressed  in  a  battle 
of  the  Crusades,  had  seen  in  a  vision  a  star  fall  from 
heaven  and  alight  upon  his  shield.  And  so  it  came 
that  William  and  Mary  Randolph  were  parents  of 
seven  noble  sons,  and  from  them  descended  the 
great  men  of  colonial  and  Revolutionary  Virginia  — 
Thomas  Jefferson,  Richard  Bland,  Chief  Justice 
Marshall,  Robert  E.  Lee.  In  all  these  times, — 
prominent  in  council,  in  the  college,  in  the  halls  of 
the  Executive  at  Philadelphia,  wearing  the  ermine, 
in  the  presidential  chair,  at  the  bar,  in  the  pulpit  of 
the  Established  Church,  in  the  march,  in  the  battle- 
field,—  in  every  place  where  character,  wisdom,  and 
gallant  bearing  were  needed,  we  find  the  descend- 
ants of  William  and  Mary  Randolph. 

These  were  the  things  of  which  I  proudly 
thought  (for  these  were  my  Colonel's  own  people) 
as  I  was  slowly  borne  along  to  other  localities, — 
many  of  them  where  the  Randolphs  had  lived,  —  all 
of  them  linked  together  in  one  chain  of  historic  in- 


Jordan's   Point  139 

terest.  The  old  Randolph  mansion  still  existed  in 
part,  although  its  fine  dome  and  pillared  porticoes 
had  fallen  into  decay.  As  I  turned  my  reverent 
eyes  to  this  Mecca,  how  would  I  have  been  cut  to 
the  heart  had  the  future  —  the  near  future  —  been 
revealed  to  me.  In  one  short  year  McClellan 
would,  before  proceeding  to  Harrison's  Landing, 
rest  after  the  disasters  of  the  Seven  Days'  Battles 
under  the  roof-tree  at  Turkey  Island,  and  his  gun- 
boats would  shell  the  old  mansion  and  level  it 
to  the  ground  when  it  no  longer  sheltered  their 
commander. 

A  bend  of  the  river  now  revealed  Jordan's  Point, 
where  lived  in  colonial  and  Revolutionary  days 
Richard  Bland,  the  antiquary,  statesman,  and  pa- 
triot, over  whose  grave  the  "  martial  ranks  of  corn  " 
were  now  waving,  through  the  stupidity  of  a  recreant 
descendant.  There  was  no  house  on  Jordan's  Point 
wherein  the  restless  ghost  of  pretty  Cicely  Jordan 
might  hold  tryst  with  her  many  lovers,  or  where  the 
wraith  of  the  wise  old  antiquary  might  be  discerned, 
bending  over  the  books  "  which  he  studieth  much." 
Pretty,  rich,  fascinating  Cicely  had  in  1623  created 
so  much  disturbance  in  the  colony  by  her  utter  in- 
ability to  refuse  a  suitor,  that  she  was  the  occasion 
of  the  famous  law  enacting  punishment  for  women 
who  promised  marriage  to  more  than  one  man  at 
a  time.  Here  at  "Jordan's  "  ha'd  lived  another  Mary 
—  Mary  Bland  —  and  thence  Henry  Lee  had  borne 
her  to  Westmoreland ;  and  Henry  and  Mary  Lee 
were  the  grandparents  of  Light  Horse  Harry,  the 
father  of  our  beloved  Robert  E.  Lee.  Here,  too, 


140  Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

at  Jordan's,  Nathaniel  Bacon  had  encamped  his  fol- 
lowers, before  leading  them  to  avenge  the  outrages 
of  the  Indians. 

But  as  I  mused  of  these  things  we  were  passing 
Berkley,  where  lived  Giles  Bland,  who  was  executed 
for  following  Nathaniel  Bacon  ;  afterward  the  home 
of  the  Harrison  who  signed  the  Declaration  of 
Independence,  the  father  of  "  old  Tippecanoe," 
President  William  Henry  Harrison.  If  the  veil 
of  the  future  had  been  lifted,  I  should  have  seen 
General  McClellan  resting  on  the  veranda  here  after 
his  retreat  from  Malvern  Hills,  the  fields  for  miles 
around  covered  with  his  tents,  the  waters  alive  with 
war  vessels  and  transports. 

Now,  as  I  passed,  the  tired  cattle,  gathered  under 
the  shade  of  a  great  oak  near  the  river,  were  chew- 
ing in  contentment  the  midday  cud ;  and  at  an  out- 
house within  sight,  a  woman  was  setting  out  her 
newly  washed  milk  pails  to  be  sweetened  by  the  sun 
after  her  noonday  dinner. 

Next  in  interest  came  Westover  —  the  fine  house 
built  by  Colonel  William  Byrd,  to  whose  father  my 
children's  ancestor  had  sold  it.  "  The  wise  and 
prudent  Theodorick  Bland "  was  sleeping  there,  I 
knew,  behind  the  tombstone  which  recorded  his 
wisdom  and  prudence,  and  on  which  his  own  and 
his  wife's  arms  were  quartered,  she  having  been 
the  daughter  of  the  Colonial  Governor  Richard 
Bennett.  Near  him  in  the  graveyard  lay  the  mortal 
remains  of  Evelyn  Byrd  —  whose  restless  spirit  slept 
not  ever,  but  might  be  seen  on  moonlight  nights 
gliding  among  the  roses. 


Historic  Sites  on  the  James  141 

Then  "  Pace's  Pains,"  where  lived  the  Christian 
Indian  Chanco,  who  revealed  the  plan  for  the  whole- 
sale massacre  of  the  English  in  1622,  and  who  saved 
Jamestown  by  a  message  at  dawn  to  the  authorities 
of  the  town ;  and  Argall's  Point,  where  the  settlers 
were  slain  in  the  Indian  massacre  of  1619;  and 
Jamestown,  where  the  good  Mr.  Hunt  stretched  a 
sail  between  two  trees  for  an  altar,  consecrating  the 
first  church,  floored  by  the  leaves  and  flowers  of  the 
forest  and  roofed  by  the  blue  sky  of  heaven.  And 
Argall's  —  once  called  Paspahegh  —  where  Nathan- 
iel Bacon  had  halted  his  "  tyred  forlorne  Body  of 
men  "  to  rest  them  before  marching  on  to  James- 
town. 

And  so  on  and  on  —  past  Weyanoke  and  Bran- 
don with  its  art  treasures  —  and  Martin's  Hundred, 
where  the  colonists  were  massacred  in  1622. 

How  peacefully  the  old  river  glided  between  its 
banks.  Now  and  then  voices  reached  us  from  the 
shores,  or  we  paused  at  a  busy  landing  to  leave  a 
mail-bag,  or  to  deliver  packages  and  barrels  for  the 
dwellers  inland  ;  or  the  gang-plank  would  be  lowered 
for  some  planter  going  home  to  his  family,  and  soon 
pulled  up,  the  great  paddle-wheels  churning  the  thick 
muddy  water  into  a  creamy  froth,  as  we  were  off" 
again. 

As  late  evening  drew  on  the  river  became  dark, 
but  less  silent.  We  passed  numbers  of  little  skiffs 
with  a  single  wing  and  a  red  eye  astern,  in  which 
the  fisherman  was  hurrying  home,  sometimes  sing- 
ing as  he  sailed.  Overhead  the  homing  birds  flapped 
their  heavy  wings. 


142         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

A  sense  of  peace  and  calm  stole  over  me.  War  ? 
Oh,  surely,  surely  not !  Something  would  prevent 
it.  Surely,  blood  would  not  be  shed  because  of  those 
insulting  words  in  the  Senate  and  House.  God  was 
our  Father  —  the  Father  of  all.  Were  we  not  chil- 
dren of  His  covenant  —  His  blessing  promised  to 
the  third  and  fourth  generation  ?  Was  not  the  blood 
of  the  saints  in  our  veins  ? 

If  the  veil  could  have  been  lifted,  if  one  had  said, 
"  Behold,  I  shew  you  a  vision  —  you  may  yet  avert 
its  fulfilment,"  how  merciful  would  that  have  been  ! 
Could  this  have  been  vouchsafed  me,  I  might  have 
had  unrolled  before  me,  that  fourteenth  day  of  June, 
— just  three  years  away,  —  when  the  man  who  was 
now  drilling  a  small  company  of  volunteers  in  Galena 
would  be  in  these  waters,  crossing  the  James  at  the 
head  of  115,000  men,  sweeping  for  two  days  and 
nights  over  three  lines  of  pontoons,  marching  horse, 
foot,  artillery,  and  train,  straight  to  the  spot  whence 
I  had  come  in  the  morning  of  this  day,  going  on 
their  victorious  way  to  lay  siege  to  Richmond  and 
Petersburg,  and  destined  to  overwhelm  us  in  the 
end. 

And  now  it  was  quite  dark  on  the  river.  Phantom 
ships  flashed  now  and  then  out  of  the  darkness,  and 
were  swallowed  up  again.  Was  that  the  Goodspeed, 
or  the  Susan  Constant,  or  perhaps  the  Discovery? 
Hark  !  was  that  a  war-whoop  ? 

Only  the  warning  whistle  of  our  own  boat,  as  I 
discovered  upon  awaking.  Before  me  stood  the 
dignified  old  colored  woman  who  held  the  proud 
position  of  stewardess  of  our  boat,  and  beside  her  a 


Patriotic  Women  at  Norfolk  143 

young  assistant  who  gently  removed  and  began  to 
fold  the  shawl  I  had  tucked  around  my  knees. 

"  Honey,"  said  the  old  dame,  "  ain't  you  'fraid 
you'll  ketch  cole  out  here  so  late  ?  —  it's  time  for 
you  to  go  to  bed.  The  cap'n  sent  me  for  you. 
Yo'  state-room  is  nice  an'  cool  now.  The  pote- 
hole  been  open  ever  since  sundown." 

I  was  awake  and  dressed  by  sunrise  next  day,  our 
boat  having  arrived  after  midnight  at  the  wharf  in 
Norfolk  —  and  in  due  time  the  clanking  of  spurs  an- 
nounced my  Colonel !  Very  fine  did  he  look  in  his 
uniform,  with  my  eagles  bristling  on  each  shoulder. 

There  was  to  be  a  dress-parade  that  day,  in  the 
afternoon,  and  he  desired  me  to  join  the  ladies  of 
the  hotel  in  the  drawing-room  after  breakfast  and 
present  with  his  compliments  an  invitation  to  the 
parade. 

"  Do  you  know  when  and  where  I  can  see  the 
ladies  of  this  hotel  ? "  I  asked  my  smiling  colored 
chambermaid. 

"  Lor',  lady,  dey  ain't  fur  off,"  she  said.  "  Dey 
mostly  sets  all  day  in  de  shady  side  of  de  po'ch 
pickin'  lint.  Dey  certainly  makes  a  heap  o7  muss. 
Nobody  can't  say  nuthin'  to  'em  ;  cause  deyse  guests 
of  de  hotel.  An'  'tain't  one  bit  o'  use.  Nobody 
gwine  to  git  hurt,  an'  if  dey  does,  what's  de  use  of 
all  dat  sticky  cotton  ?  " 

I  found  a  number  of  ladies  engaged  in  the 
veranda,  but  not  as  she  had  suggested.  They 
were  very  glad  to  meet  me,  and  accepted  my  invita- 
tion. They  were  making  square  bags  out  of  bunting 
for  cartridges.  A  gentle,  blue-eyed  woman  joined  us 


144         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

and  asked  for  work.  But  when  it  was  explained  to 
her,  she  colored,  her  lips  quivered.  "  Oh,  I  can't ! 
I  can't !  "  she  begged.  "  Let  me  roll  bandages  for 
wounds  !  I  can't  help  with  the  cartridges  !  You  see, 
all  my  people  live  in  Pennsylvania.  My  husband 
is  going  to  fight  them,  I  know ;  but  don't  ask  me 
to  make  the  cartridges." 

My  Colonel  came  himself  with  his  staff  in  the 
afternoon  to  escort  us  to  his  headquarters  at  the 
Marine  Hospital.  On  our  way  we  passed  an  aban- 
doned house,  on  the  walls  of  which  grew  the  most 
glorious  specimen  of  fuchsia  I  ever  beheld.  I  had 
always  heard  that  this  was  a  marine  plant,  and  I 
now  saw  to  what  perfection  it  could  be  brought  in 
the  sea  air.  It  reached  to  the  second  story  and  was 
covered  with  a  shower  of  great  scarlet  and  blue  bells. 
"  Dixie  colors,"  said  one  of  the  ladies.  We  gathered 
gorgeous  bunches  and  fastened  them  in  our  white 
dresses. 

The  parade  ground  was  a  lovely  stretch  of  green, 
and  beyond,  the  blue  waters  of  the  sea  sparkled  in 
the  afternoon  sun,  each  little  wave  gemmed  with  a 
diamond  and  set  in  sapphire. 

A  siege  gun  had  just  been  mounted,  and  there 
was  to  be  practice-firing  at  a  buoy  for  a  mark. 

I  was  standing  with  my  group  of  friends  when  a 
handsome  officer  approached  with  a  military  salute 
and  invited  me  to  honor  his  company  by  firing  their 
first  gun.  I  went  forward  with  him,  and  he  put  the 
lanyard  in  my  hands. 

"  Wait  for  the  word  of  command,  Madam,"  he 
said. 


The  Third  Virginia's  First  Gun  145 

"  And  then  what  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  Oh,  then  full  steadily,"  and  with  that  he  stepped 
back. 

"  Make  ready  !     Fire  !  " 

I  pulled  the  lanyard  —  but  I  was  unprepared  for 
the  result.  The  great  gun  backed,  leaped  in  the  air 
and  sent  a  mighty  roar  across  the  waters,  —  the  first 
cannon  fired  by  the  Third  Virginia  Volunteers.  I  re- 
ceived the  congratulations  and  thanks  of  the  Captain, 
and  returned  to  my  place  —  to  be  told  that  my  eyes 
were  congested  by  the  concussion,  and  that  I  must 
return  home  and  bathe  and  bandage  them  at  once. 
Evidently  I  was  not  fit  for  artillery  service. 


CHAPTER  XI 

LIFE    AT    THE    OAKS 

THE  month  of  July,  1861,  found  me  with  my 
little  boys  at  "  The  Oaks  "  —  the  residence 
of  Dr.  Izard  Bacon  Rice,  in  Charlotte 
County,  seventy  miles  from  Richmond,  and  miles 
away  from  the  nearest  railroad  depot.  There  I 
might  have  enjoyed  a  peaceful  summer  with  my  kind 
host  —  a  fine  type  of  a  Christian  gentleman,  some- 
time an  Old-Line  Whig  and  fierce  Union  man,  now 
an  ardent  advocate  of  states'  rights,  and  a  stanch 
supporter  of  the  New  Confederacy.  I  might  —  as  I 
had  often  done  before  —  have  revelled  in  the  fine 
trees ;  the  broad  acres  of  tobacco  in  their  summer 
prime,  when  the  noble  plant  was  proudly  flinging  out 
its  banners  before  its  fall;  the  old  garden  with  its 
box-edged  crescents,  stars,  and  circles,  —  I  might 
have  dreamed  away  the  summer  in  perfect  content- 
ment but  for  General  Beauregard.  Distant  as  was 
his  army,  a  message  from  his  guns  reached  my 
summer  retreat  more  than  a  hundred  miles  away. 

Dr.  Rice  lived  in  a  large,  old-fashioned  house,  on 
a  plantation  of  two  thousand  acres  or  more.  An  oak 
grove,  alive  with  chattering  squirrels  which  had  been 
held  sacred  for  two  generations,  surrounded  the  house. 
The  squirrels  held  conventions  in  the  trees,  and 


A  Virginia  Tobacco  Plantation  147 

doubtless  expressed  their  opinions  of  the  family  be- 
low, whom  they  had  good  reason  to  consider  inferior 
beings,  inasmuch  as  they  were  slow-motioned,  heavy 
creatures,  utterly  destitute  of  grace  and  agility,  and 
with  small  appreciation  of  hickory-nuts. 

The  Doctor  cultivated  tobacco,  and  when  I  ar- 
rived the  fields  stretched  as  far  as  the  eye  could 
reach,  now  a  vast  level  sea  of  green,  now  covering 
the  low,  gently  rounded,  undulating  hills  as  they 
sloped  down  to  the  Staunton  River.  There  was 
never  a  season  when  these  fields  were  not  alive  with 
laborers  of  every  age  ;  for  the  regal  plant  so  beloved 
of  men  —  and  ranking  with  opium  and  hemp  as  a 
solace  for  the  ills  of  mankind  —  has  enemies  from 
the  hour  it  peeps  from  the  nursery  of  the  hot  bed. 
It  can  never  be  forgotten  a  moment.  Children  can 
hunt  the  fly  which  seeks  to  line  the  leaf  with  eggs, 
or  destroy  the  unhatched  eggs,  or  aid  the  great  army 
which  must  turn  out  in  haste  when  the  ravenous 
worm  is  born.  The  earth  must  be  turned  frequently 
at  the  roots,  the  flower  buds  pinched  off,  the  shoots 
or  "  suckers  "  removed.  The  Doctor's  tobacco  field 
was  an  enlivening  spectacle,  and  very  picturesque 
did  the  ebony  faces  of  the  little  workers  look, 
among  the  broad  leaves.  No  lady's  garden  was 
ever  kept  so  clean,  so  free  from  sticks,  errant  bits 
of  paper,  or  debris  of  any  kind. 

I  do  not  claim  that  Dr.  Rice  (my  uncle)  was  a 
typical  planter  —  as  far  as  the  government  of  his 
slaves  was  concerned.  He  had  inherited  liberal 
ideas  with  these  inherited  slaves.  His  grandfather, 
David  Rice,  had  written  the  first  published  protest 


148          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

in  this  country  against  slavery  as  "  inconsistent  with 
religion  and  policy."  His  father  had  ruled  a  planta- 
tion where  severe  punishment  was  unknown,  where 
the  cheerful  slaves  rarely  needed  it.  The  old  gentle- 
man was  considered  eccentric — and  eccentric  it 
surely  was  for  a  master  to  punish  a  fault  by  com- 
manding the  culprit  to  stand  in  his  presence  while 
he  recited  a  long  passage  from  Homer  or  Virgil ! 
The  punishment  was  effective.  For  fear  of  it,  the 
fault  was  rarely  repeated. 

It  was  my  uncle's  custom  to  assemble  every  slave 
on  his  plantation  on  Sunday  morning,  and  to  speak 
a  few  words  to  each  one,  commending  the  women  if 
their  families  appeared  in  clean,  well-kept  garments, 
rewarding  with  a  pair  of  shoes  the  urchins  reported 
by  "  Uncle  Moses  "  as  having  been  orderly  and 
useful,  exchanging  a  pleasant  jest  here  and  there. 

He  presented  a  tight,  comfortable  house  to  every 
newly  married  pair,  with  timber  for  the  bridegroom 
to  add  to  it,  or  to  enclose  the  piece  of  land  for  a 
garden  or  a  poultry  yard  which  went  with  it.  Every 
mother  at  the  birth  of  a  child  was  presented  with  a 
pig.  The  plantation,  which  was  large  and  fruitful, 
and  from  which  nothing  but  tobacco  and  wheat  was 
ever  sold,  yielded  vegetables,  poultry,  mutton,  beef, 
bacon  in  lavish  abundance,  while  the  orchards  and 
vines  were  equally  productive. 

Some  hundreds  of  the  negroes  of  the  neighbor- 
hood were  members  of  the  Presbyterian  church  of 
the  whites.  In  the  old  church  books  may  be  seen 
to-day  records  of  their  marriages  and  funerals,  and 
how  (for  example)  "  Lovelace  Brown  was  brought 


Presbyterian  Negroes  —  A  Family  Coach     149 

before  the  session  for  hog-stealing  and  suspended 
for  one  month."  But  there  were  better  records  than 
this.  These  Presbyterian  negroes  were  at  one  time 
led  by  an  eminent  patriarch,  Uncle  Abel,  who  de- 
serves more  than  a  passing  notice.  He  had  been 
taught  to  read  and  had  been  well  drilled  in  the 
Shorter  Catechism.  But  his  marriage  ceremonies 
were  always  read  from  the  Episcopal  Prayer-book, 
every  word  of  which  he  held  sacred,  not  to  be 
changed  or  omitted  to  suit  any  modern  heresy. 
"I  M,  take  thee  N,"  was  the  formula  for  Jack 
or  Peter,  Dilsey  or  Dicey  —  and  "with  this  ring 
I  thee  wed  "  must  be  pronounced  with  solemnity, 
ring  or  no  ring,  the  latter  being  not  at  all  essential. 

My  uncle's  old  family  coach,  punctual  to  the 
minute,  swept  around  the  circle  on  the  lawn  every 
Sunday  morning,  with  Uncle  Peter  proudly  guiding 
the  horses  from  his  high  perch.  And  high-swung 
was  the  coach,  to  be  ascended  (as  we  ascended  our 
four-poster  beds)  by  three  carpeted  steps,  —  in 
the  case  of  the  carnage,  folding  steps,  which  were 
tucked  inside  after  we  had  disposed  of  ourselves, 
with  our  ample  hoops.  There  was  plenty  of  room 
inside.  Pockets  lined  the  doors,  and  these  were 
rilled  by  my  aunt  with  beaten  biscuit  and  sugar- 
cakes  "  for  the  little  darkies  on  the  road." 

Arriving  at  the  church,  the  gentlemen  from  the 
adjacent  plantations,  who  had  been  settling  the 
affairs  of  the  nation  under  the  trees,  came  forward 
to  hand  us  from  our  carriage,  after  the  manner  of 
old-time  cavaliers  and  sedan-chairs ;  and  my  aunt 
and  I  would  be  very  gracious,  devoutly  hoping  in 


150         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

our  hearts  that  my  uncle  and  his  sons  would  not 
forget  a  reciprocal  courtesy  when  Mrs.  Winston 
Henry,  Mrs.  Paul  Carrington,  and  Mrs.  Sarah 
Carrington  should  arrive. 

The  women  all  seated  themselves  on  the  right 
side  of  the  church,  while  the  men,  during  the 
singing  of  a  preliminary  hymn,  came  in  like  a 
processional  and  took  the  left  as  their  portion, 
—  all  of  which  (except  the  advertisements  on  the 
church  doors)  was  conducted  precisely  according  to 
the  customs  of  Revolutionary  times,  when  Patrick 
Henry  and  John  Randolph,  now  sleeping  a  few 
miles  away,  were  themselves  (we  trust)  church- 
goers. 

Church  dinners  at  home  were  simple,  but  abun- 
dant,—  so  that  if  three  or  four  carriages  should 
arrive  from  distant  plantations  in  the  neighborhood, 
there  could  be  welcome  and  refreshment  for  all, 
but  on  the  great  days  when  my  uncle  and  aunt  re- 
ceived the  neighborhood,  when  the  Carringtons  and 
Patrick  Henry's  sons,  John  and  Winston,  came 
with  their  families  to  spend  the  day,  the  dinner  was 
something  to  be  remembered.  Perhaps  a  descrip- 
tion verbatim  from  an  old  family  servant  will  be 
better  than  anything  I  can  furnish  from  memory. 

"  Yes,  sir !  We  had  fine  dinners  in  them  days. 
The  butter  was  moulded  like  a  temple  with  pillars, 
and  a  rose  stuck  in  the  top.  There  was  a  wreath 
of  roses  roun'  all  the  dessert  dishes.  Viney  biled 
the  ham  in  cider.  We  had  roas'  pig,  biled  turkey, 
chickens  fried  an*  briled,  spring  lam',  ducks  an'  green 
goslin'.  An'  every  cut-glass  dish  in  the  house  was 


Dinner  Parties  at  the  Oaks  151 

full  of  preserves,  an'  the  great  bowl  full  of  ice-cream, 
an'  floatin'  island,  an*  tipsy-cake,  an1  cheese-cakes, 
an'  green  sweetmeats,  an'  citron.  John  was  both- 
ered where  to  set  all  the  dishes." 

Our  guests  would  remain  late,  that  they  might 
have  the  cool  evening  hours  for  their  long  drives. 
Mr.  John  Henry,  with  his  family  of  gifted  sons  and 
beautiful  daughters,  lived  at  Red  Hill,  the  home  of 
his  father,  the  great  orator  and  patriot,  under  the 
trees  his  father  had  planted  and  near  the  grave  where 
he  sleeps.  Mr.  Winston  Henry  had  also  an  inter- 
esting family,  and  lived  in  an  old  colonial  house  not 
far  away,  surrounded  by  grounds  filled  in  summer 
with  pomegranates  and  gardenias,  and  with  lemon 
and  orange  trees  in  tubs,  also  great  trees  of  helio- 
trope, and  vines  of  jessamine  —  a  paradise  of  beauty 
and  sweetness.  Rosalie  Henry  would  bring  her 
guitar  to  my  uncle's  and  sing  for  us  by  the  hour. 
She  was  so  loved,  so  cherished  by  her  parents,  that 
they  gave  her  a  bedroom  over  their  own,  to  which 
she  ascended  by  a  stairway  from  their  own  apartment 
—  all  that  they  might  be  near  her.  But  one  morn- 
ing early,  pretty  Rosalie  changed  gowns  with  her 
maid,  put  a  pail  on  her  head,  and  slipped  past  her 
trusting,  adoring  parents  to  join  her  lover  in  the 
jessamine  bower,  and  in  a  bridal  robe  of  linsey-wool- 
sey was  married  at  the  next  town !  Then  it  was 
that  my  good  uncle  had  his  opportunity.  The  sub- 
lime teaching  of  forgiveness  was  respected  from  his 
kindly  lips. 

In  the  early  summer  of  '61  Virginia  planters 
were  not  all  d°  accord  on  political  questions ;  and 


152          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

like  Agag,  it  behooved  us  to  "  walk  delicately  "  in 
conversation.  One  thing  they  would  not  endure. 
Politics  were  to  be  kept  out  of  the  pulpit.  Never 
had  the  pastor  such  attentive  congregations ;  they 
were  watching  him,  keenly  alive  to  the  remotest  hint 
or  allusion  to  the  war.  His  business  was  with  the 
spiritual  kingdom  of  God.  He  must  not  interfere 
with  Caesar's.  He  found  it  expedient  to  omit  for  the 
present  the  warlike  aspirations  of  David,  in  which 
he  beseeches  the  Lord's  attention  to  his  enemies, 
and,  among  other  things  calculated  to  comfort  and 
soothe  his  pious  feelings,  prays  that  they  may  be  as 
"  stubble  before  the  wind,"  as  "  wood  before  fire," 
and  be  "  rooted  forever  out  of  the  land  of  the 
living." 

"  Enemies "  were  not  to  be  alluded  to  in  the 
pulpit.  Nor,  indeed,  not  yet  in  private !  It  was 
proper  and  in  good  taste  to  speak  of  them  as 
"  Federals  "  ;  but  at  no  •  very  distant  day  these 
same  polite  gentlemen  called  them  "  enemies  "  with 
a  will ;  when  scornfully  disposed,  they  were  "  Yan- 
kees," and  when  they  wished  to  be  positively  insult- 
ing, "  Yanks." 

Across  the  river  from  the  Oaks  was  cc  Mildendo," 
the  home  of  the  Carrington  family.  From  this 
home  went  every  man  capable  of  bearing  arms  — 
Fontaine,  the  fine  young  surgeon  so  well  placed  in 
the  United  States  Navy,  and  his  brother,  the  grave 
head  of  the  house  upon  whom  everybody  depended; 
and  one,  a  cousin,  leaving  his  bride  at  the  altar. 
Patrick  Henry's  grandsons  all  enlisted.  Mr.  Charles 
Bruce  left  his  baronial  castle  on  Staunton  Hill  near 


Virginia  Patriots   Young  and  Old  153 

the  Oaks,  equipped  the  "  Staunton  Hill  Artillery 
Company"  at  his  own  expense,  placed  himself  at 
its  head  and  shared  all  its  hardships.  His  brother, 
Mr.  James  Bruce,  cut  up  his  rich  carpets  and  curtains 
for  the  soldiers'  blankets.  These  were  but  a  few  of 
the  gallant  neighbors  of  my  uncle,  who  exchanged 
homes  of  luxury  for  the  hardships  of  war  —  all  of 
whom  probably  shared  General  Lee's  keen  sorrow 
at  the  necessity  forced  upon  Virginia  to  withdraw 
her  allegiance  from  the  Union. 

My  uncle  had  a  son  already  in  the  cavalry  ser- 
vice—  and  another,  Henry,  a  fine  young  fellow  of 
sixteen,  was  at  Hampden-Sidney  College,  Virginia. 
Presently  a  letter  from  the  latter  filled  the  family  at 
the  Oaks  with  —  yes,  anxiety  —  but  at  the  same 
time  a  proud  sense  of  how  old  Revolutionary 
"  blood  will  tell."  Henry  was  on  the  march  !  At 
the  first  tocsin  of  war  the  students  of  Hampden- 
Sidney  had  rushed  to  arms  —  most  of  them  under 
age;  and  when  their  president,  the  venerated  Rev. 
John  Atkinson,  found  they  would  go,  he  placed 
himself  at  their  head  as  their  captain.  Military 
tactics  had  not  been  included  in  his  theological  train- 
ing. So  promptly  had  he  responded  to  the  call 
of  his  country  he  had  no  opportunity  to  drill  his 
young  soldiers  according  to  the  rules  of  Hardee  and 
Jomini ;  but  he  did  more  for  them  than  this.  His 
fatherly  care  and  his  example  of  courage,  fortitude, 
and  faith  in  the  cause  inspired  them  to  bear  hard- 
ships which  were  severe  almost  beyond  their  powers 
of  endurance. 


154         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

Notwithstanding  the  inexperience  of  their  captain, 
these  boys,  fresh  from  their  college  halls,  were 
often  publicly  complimented  as  they  headed  the 
column  in  the  long  marches  over  the  mountains 
of  Virginia. 

When  they  were  called  to  Richmond  their  patri- 
otic ardor  received  a  shock.  Governor  Letcher 
seriously  took  under  consideration  the  propriety  of 
sending  them  back  to  school  on  account  of  their 
youth.  A  committee  from  the  company  waited 
upon  him,  and  he  was  finally  prevailed  upon  to 
allow  them  to  go  to  the  front. 

They  soon  learned  what  war  was  —  these  beard- 
less college  boys,  and  bore  themselves  gallantly  in 
several  engagements.  But  their  military  career  was 
brief.  McClellan  flanked  their  position  at  Rich 
Mountain,  July  12,  1861,  and  cut  off  every  avenue 
of  retreat.  The  whole  command,  after  a  sharp  en- 
gagement, were  made  prisoners  of  war.  For  the 
time  being  the  boys  felt  their  military  career  to  have 
been  an  inglorious  failure. 

While  they  were  thus  disappointed  and  depressed, 
a  Federal  officer,  presumably  a  lieutenant,  visited 
them  in  the  prison  camp.  He  said  he  had  heard  so 
much  of  the  boy  soldiers  led  by  their  college  presi- 
dent that  he  wished  to  make  their  acquaintance. 

The  boys  were  not  by  way  of  being  over  anxious 
to  receive  visits  from  their  victors.  The  officer 
asked, "  Why  in  the  world  are  you  here  ?  " 

"  We  are  here  to  fight!  "  said  they.  "What  do 
you  suppose  we  came  for  ?  " 

"  Well,  boys,"  said  the  officer,  pleasantly,  "make 


The  Hampden-Sidney  Boys  155 

yourselves  easy.  I'll  send  you  home  to  your  mothers 
in  a  few  days." 

The  officer  was  General  McClellan  ! 

The  company  was  paroled,  but  was  not  exchanged 
for  a  year.  This  prolonged  parole,  they  always 
thought,  was  due  to  General  McClelland  influence 
in  order  to  give  them  a  whole  year  at  college. 

They  all  returned  to  the  army  after  their  ex- 
change, but  never  as  the  "  Hampden-Sidney  Boys." 
They  never  forgot  the  little  interview  with  the  Gen- 
eral. He  won  all  their  hearts. 

Our  own  Hampden-Sidney  boy,  Henry  Rice,  soon 
afterward  wrote  from  a  hospital  in  Richmond  that 
he  was  ill  with  fever.  My  uncle  ordered  him  home, 
and  I  took  the  great  family  coach  and  Uncle  Peter 
and  went  to  the  depot,  fourteen  miles  away,  to  fetch 
him.  He  looked  so  long,  that  I  doubted  whether 
I  could  bestow  him  in  the  carriage ;  and  as  he  was 
too  good  a  soldier  for  me  to  suggest  that  he  be 
"  doubled  up,"  I  entered  the  carriage  first,  had  his 
head  and  shoulders  placed  in  my  lap,  then  closed 
the  door  and  swung  his  long  legs  out  of  the  window  ! 

My  uncle  was  a  fine  specimen  of  a  Christian 
gentleman  —  always  courteous,  always  serene.  I 
delighted  in  following  him  around  the  plantation  on 
horseback.  When  he  winnowed  his  wheat,  Uncle 
Moses,  standing  like  an  emperor  amid  the  sheaves, 
filled  the  hearts  of  my  little  boys  with  ecstasy  by 
allowing  them  to  ride  the  horses  that  turned  the 
great  wheel.  Finally  the  wheat  was  packed  in  bags, 
and  we  stood  on  the  bank  of  the  river  to  see  it  piled 
into  flat-bottomed  boats  on  the  way  to  market. 


156         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

The  next  morning  Moses  appeared  at  the  dining 
room  door  while  we  were  at  breakfast. 

"  Good  morning,  Moses,"  said  my  uncle.  "  I 
thought  you  were  going  with  the  wheat." 

"  Dar  ain't  no  wheat,"  said  the  old  man.  cc  Hit's 
all  at  de  bottom  of  the  river." 

"  How  did  that  happen  ?  " 

"  We  jest  natchelly  run  agin  a  snag ;  when  de 
boat  turn  over,  hit  pulled  all  de  others  down.  'Cose 
you  know,  Marster,  dey  was  tied  together,  an*  boat 
ain'  got  no  eyes  to  see  snags." 

"Well  — get  out  your  chains  and  grappling  hooks, 
Moses,  and  save  all  you  can.  It  will  do  to  feed  the 
chickens." 

"  Why,  Uncle  !  "  I  exclaimed,  "  how  calmly  you 
take  it." 

"  Certainly,"  said  he  ;  "  because  I've  lost  my  crop 
is  that  any  reason  I  should  lose  my  temper?  Here, 
Pizarro,  have  our  horses  saddled.  We'll  go  down 
to  the  river  and  encourage  Moses  to  resurrect  his 
wheat."  (Pizarro  was  John's  son.  John  had  stud- 
ied with  the  boys  of  the  family,  and  knew  some 
history  and  Latin.  One  of  the  women  bore  the 
classic  name  of  "  Lethe  " ;  others  were  "  Chloe  " 
and  "  Daphne  " ;  another  name,  frequently  repeated, 
was  "  Dicey  "  —  a  survival,  according  to  Mr.  Andrew 
Lang,  of  the  myth  of  Orpheus  and  Eurydice,  which 
was  found  among  the  Indians  and  the  Virginia 
negroes  of  colonial  times.  Orpheus  seems  to  have 
perished  from  their  traditions,  but  Dicey  is  still  a 
favorite  name.  The  descendants  of  Lethe  and 
Pizarro  still  live  at  the  Oaks.  A  late  achievement 


A  Negro    Funeral  157 

shows  their  progress  under  new  conditions,  the  baptis- 
mal records  having  been  enriched  with  "  Hazel-Kirke- 
Florida-Bell-Armazinda-Hodge,"  more  imposing  if 
less  suggestive  than  the  "  Homicide"  and  "  Neural- 
gia" of  a  neighboring  county.) 

This  precise  type  of  a  Virginia  plantation  will 
never  appear  again,  I  imagine.  I  wish  I  could  de- 
scribe a  plantation  wedding  as  I  saw  it  that  summer. 
But  a  funeral  of  one  of  the  old  servants  was  pecul- 
iarly interesting  to  me.  "  Aunt  Matilda  "  had  been 
much  loved,  and  when  she  found  herself  dying,  she 
had  requested  that  the  mistress  and  little  children 
should  attend  her  funeral.  "  I  ain'  been  much  to 
church,"  she  urged,  "  I  couldn't  leave  my  babies.  I 
ain'  had  dat  shoutin'  an*  hollerin'  religion,  but  I  gWine 
to  heaven  jes'  de  same  " — a  fact  of  which  nobody  who 
knew  Aunt  Matilda  could  have  the  smallest  doubt. 

We  had  a  long,  warm  walk  behind  hundreds  of 
negroes,  following  the  rude  coffin  in  slow  procession 
through  the  woods,  singing  antiphonally  as  they 
went  one  of  those  strange,  weird  hymns  not  to  be 
caught  by  any  Anglo-Saxon  voice. 

It  was  a  beautiful  and  touching  scene,  and  at  the 
grave  I  longed  for  an  artist  (we  had  no  kodaks 
then)  to  perpetuate  the  picture.  The  level  rays  of 
the  sun  were  filtered  through  the  green  leaves  of 
the  forest,  and  fell  gently  on  the  dusky,  pathetic 
faces,  and  on  the  simple  coffin  surrounded  by  orphan 
children  and  relatives,  very  dignified  and  quiet  in 
their  grief. 

The  spiritual  patriarch  of  the  plantation  presided. 
Old  Uncle  Abel  said:  — 


158          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

"  I  ain'  gwine  keep  you  all  long.  'Tain*  no  use. 
We  can't  do  nothin'  for  Sis'  Tildy.  All  is  done  fer 
her,  an*  she  done  preach  her  own  fune'al  sermon. 
Her  name  was  on  dis  church  book  here,  but  dat 
warn'  nothin',  'dout  'twas  on  de  Lamb  book  too  ! 

"  Now  whiles  dey  fillin'  up  her  grave  I'd  like  you 
all  to  sing  a  hymn  Sis'  Tildy  uster  love,  but  you 
all  know  I  bline  in  one  eye,  an'  de  sweat  done  got 
in  de  other ;  so's  I  can't  see  to  line  it  out,  an'  I 
dunno  as  any  o'  you  all  ken  do  it "  —  and  the  first 
thing  I  knew,  the  old  man  had  passed  his  well-worn 
book  to  me,  and  there  I  stood,  at  the  foot  of  the 
grave,  "  lining  out"  :  — 

"  Asleep  in  Jesus,  blessed  sleep 
From  which  none  ever  wakes  to  weep,"  — 

words  of  immortal  comfort  to  the  great  throng  of 
negro  mourners  who  caught  it  up,  line  after  line,  on 
an  air  of  their  own,  full  of  tears  and  tenderness, — a 
strange,  weird  tune  no  white  person's  voice  could 
ever  follow. 

Among  such  scenes  I  passed  the  month  of  June 
and  the  early  part  of  July,  and  then  General  Beau- 
regard  reminded  us  that  we  were  at  war,  and  had  no 
right  to  make  ourselves  comfortable. 

Dr.  Rice,  on  the  afternoon  of  the  2ist,  had  be- 
taken himself  to  his  accustomed  place  under  the 
trees,  to  escape  the  flies,  —  the  pest  of  Southern 
households  in  summer,  —  and  had  lain  down  on  the 
grass  for  his  afternoon  nap.  He  suddenly  called 
out  excitedly  :  "  There's  a  battle  going  on  —  a  fierce 
battle  —  I  can  hear  the  cannonading  distinctly. 


Wireless  Telegraphy  159 

Here  —  lie  down  —  you  can  hear  it!"     "Oh,  no, 
no,  I  can't !  "  I  gasped.     "  It  may  be  at  Norfolk/' 

Like  Jessie,  who  had  heard  the  pibroch  at  the 
siege  of  Lucknow,  he  had  heard,  with  his  ear  to  the 
ground,  the  firing  at  Manassas.  The  battle  of  Bull 
Run  was  at  its  height.  We  found  it  difficult  to 
understand  that  he  could  have  heard  cannonading  one 
hundred  and  fifty  miles  away.  We  had  not  then 
spoken  across  the  ocean  and  been  answered. 


CHAPTER   XII 

BULL    RUN    AND    FAIR    OAKS 

WE  had  small  faith  in  my  uncle's  wireless 
telegraphy,  but  in  a  short  time  we  had 
confirmation  of  his  news. 

Then  came  the  details  of  the  first  great  battle  of 
the  war.  "  Glorious  news  !  "  everybody  said.  A 
glorious  triumph  for  the  South,  —  an  utter  rout  of 
the  enemy ;  but  my  heart  sank  within  me  at  the  tale 
of  blood.  How  about  those  boys  I  had  seen  march 
away  ?  What  would  life  hold  for  some  of  the  wives 
and  mothers  and  sweethearts  at  home? 

What  was  glory  to  the  gallant  Colonel  Bartow, 
lying  in  state  at  the  capitol  in  Richmond  ?  Could 
glory  dry  his  widow's  tears  or  console  his  aged 
mother?  We  gathered  details  of  the  last  moments 
of  the  men  who  fell.  It  was  all  so  strange  !  Could  it 
be  true  that  these  things  had  actually  happened  in 
Virginia  ? 

Our  men,  when  the  bodies  were  brought  home, 
could  tell  many  stories  of  officers  —  but  how  about 
the  boys  in  the  ranks  ?  Bartow  had  been  unhorsed 
in  the  fight,  and  his  aide,  young  Lamar,  dashed  across 
the  field  amid  a  hail  of  bullets  to  procure  another 
mount  for  his  Colonel.  Suddenly  Lamar  was  seen 
to  fall  with  his  horse.  Extricating  himself,  and  per- 

160 


Gallantry  of  Colonel  Lamar  161 

ceiving  that  his  horse  was  shot,  he  started  to  proceed 
on  foot ;  the  wounded  animal  tried  to  rise  and  fol- 
low. Our  men  saw  Lamar  turn  in  that  deadly  fire, 
stoop  down,  and  pat  the  poor  horse  on  the  neck. 
Another  volley  of  bullets  ended  the  noble  animal's 
life,  and  Lamar  returned  just  in  time  to  bear  Bar- 
tow's  body  from  the  field. 

I  grew  so  restless  and  unhappy  that  I  turned  my 
face  homeward  to  Petersburg.  My  resolution  was 
taken.  I  steadily  withstood  all  the  entreaties  of  my 
friends,  and  determined  to  follow  my  husband's  regi- 
ment through  the  war.  I  did  not  ask  his  permission. 
I  would  give  no  trouble.  I  should  be  only  a  help 
to  his  sick  men  and  his  wounded.  I  busied  myself 
in  preparing  a  camp  equipage  —  a  field-stove  with  a 
rotary  chimney,  ticks  for  bedding,  to  be  filled  with 
straw  or  hay  or  leaves  as  the  case  might  be,  a  camp 
chest  of  tin  utensils,  strong  blankets,  etc.  A  tent 
could  always  be  had  from  Major  Shepard,  our 
quartermaster.  News  soon  came  that  the  Third  Vir- 
ginia had  been  ordered  to  Smithfield.  McClellan 
was  looking  toward  the  Peninsula,  and  Major-Gen- 
eral Joseph  E.  Johnston  was  keeping  an  eye  on 
McClellan. 

When  I  set  forth  on  what  my  father  termed  my 
"  wild-goose  chase,"  I  found  the  country  literally 
alive  with  troops.  The  train  on  which  I  travelled 
was  switched  off  again  and  again  to  allow  them  to 
pass.  My  little  boys  had  the  time  of  their  lives, 
cheering  the  soldiers  and  picnicking  at  short  inter- 
vals all  day. 

But  Smithfield  would  not  hear  of  the  camp  outfit. 


1 62         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

The  great  box  was  trundled  away  to  the  warehouse, 
and  I  was  hospitably  taken  into  one  of  the  homes 
of  the  little  town. 

After  a  while  things  looked  as  if  I  would  probably 
stay  in  Smithfield  the  rest  of  my  natural  life.  So  I 
rented  a  small  furnished  house,  bought  a  cow,  opened 
an  account  with  Mr.  Britt,  the  grocer,  also  with  a 
fisherman  who  went  out  every  night  on  Pagan  Creek 
with  a  light  in  his  boat,  drew  his  blanket  around  him 
and  dozed,  while  the  fat  little  mullets  jumped  in  for 
my  breakfast.  Until  the  mullet  species  becomes 
extinct  nobody  need  starve  in  Smithfield. 

The  Third  Virginia  and  its  Colonel  were  giving 
themselves  up  to  murmurs  and  discontent  at  being 
"buried  in  Smithfield"  while  gallant  fighting  was 

?oing  on  elsewhere,  meanwhile  studying  Hardee  and 
omini  with  all  their  might.     Not  one  of  the  officers 
or  men  had  ever  before  seen  military  service.     The 
daily  drill  was  the  only  excitement. 

Here  they  were,  fastened  hand  and  foot,  strong, 
ardent  fellows,  while  so  much  was  going  on  elsewhere, 
—  Stonewall  Jackson  marching  on  his  career  of 
glory,  Beauregard  ordered  to  active  service  in  the 
West,  Fort  Henry  and  Fort  Donelson  surrendered 
to  the  enemy,  our  army  falling  back  from  Manassas, 
the  mighty  Army  of  the  Potomac  divided  and  scat- 
tered. Then  came  news  that  General  Lee,  whose 
first  appointment  was  from  Virginia,  was  to  have 
command  of  all  the  armies  of  the  Confederacy. 

Major-General  Pemberton  (the  gallant  hero  who 
held  Vicksburg  against  such  odds)  was  then  our  com- 
manding officer  at  Smithfield.  His  wife  and  her  sister. 


The  Third  Virginia  at  Smithfield          163 

Miss  Imogene  Thompson,  were  our  grand  dames, 
—  deserving  the  admiration  we  accorded  them.  The 
beauty  of  the  town  was  Mary  Garnett ;  the  spirited 
belle  who  wore  brass  buttons  and  a  military  cap, 
Miss  Riddick.  Despite  all  the  discouraging  news, 
these  young  people  mightily  cheered  the  spirits  of 
the  officers  and  helped  them  to  bear  inglorious  inac- 
tion with  becoming  fortitude. 

General  Pemberton  varied  our  own  routine  some- 
what by  giving  an  occasional  dinner  party.  Once 
he  invited  us  to  an  early  morning  drive  to  Cooper's 
Point,  opposite  Newport  News,  where  the  war- 
ships Congress  and  Cumberland  were  anchored,  with 
whose  guns  (so  soon  to  be  silenced  by  the  iron-clad 
Merrimac)  we  were  already  familiar.  We  were  a 
merry  party,  assembled  in  open  wagons  on  a  frosty 
morning,  and  we  enjoyed  the  drive  with  fleet  horses 
through  the  keen  air.  Miss  Imogene  Thompson's 
lover  was  a  prisoner  of  war  on  board  one  of  the 
ships.  "  Look  out  for  the  ball  and  chain,  Imogene  !  " 
said  the  General,  as  we  arrived  in  sight  of  the  ships. 
Through  a  glass  we  could  see  the  brave  fellows,  so 
soon  to  go  down  with  their  colors  flying  before  the 
relentless  Merrimac,  but  not  with  pretty  Imogene's 
lover,  who  lived  to  make  her  happy  after  the  cruel 
war  was  over. 

Another  event  of  personal  interest  was  the  pres- 
entation to  the  Colonel  by  the  ladies  of  Peters- 
burg of  a  blue  silken  state  flag.  The  party  came 
down  the  river  in  a  steamboat,  and  we  stood  on 
the  river  bank  in  a  stiff  breeze  while  the  presen- 
tation speech  covered  the  ground  of  all  the  possibili- 


164         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

ties  in  store  for  the  Colonel,  ending  with,  "  And,  sir, 
if  you  should  fall,"  and  promises  of  tears  and  true 
faithful  hearts  to  love  and  honor  him  forever.  In 
his  answer  of  thanks  he  expressed  all  the  gratitude 
and  chivalry  of  his  heart,  but  craved  sympathy  for 
his  present  state  of  enforced  idleness  — "  for  the 
dearest  sacrifice  a  man  can  make  for  his  country  is 
his  ambition." 

Soon  afterwards  he  was  called  to  Richmond  to 
take  his  seat  in  Congress  —  and  as  there  was  noth- 
ing to  keep  him  with  the  regiment,  he  left  it  with 
his  Lieutenant-Colonel. 

But  I  did  not  return  with  him.  I  had  enlisted 
for  the  war !  For  some  reason,  which  was  not  ex- 
plained at  the  time,  he  suddenly  returned,  and  my 
only  knowledge  of  his  coming  was  a  peremptory 
official  order  to  change  my  base  —  to  leave  Smith- 
field  next  morning  at  daybreak  !  The  orderly  who 
brought  it  stood  before  me  as  I  read,  and  looked 
intensely  surprised  when  I  said :  "  Tell  the  Colonel 
it  is  impossible !  I  can't  get  ready  by  to-morrow 
morning  to  leave." 

"  Madam,"  said  the  man,  gravely,  cc  it  is  none  of 
my  business,  but  when  Colonel  Pryor  gives  an  order, 
it  is  best  to  be  a  strict  constructionist." 

Mr.  Britt  proved  a  tower  of  strength.  He  closed 
his  store  and  brought  all  his  force  to  help  me.  My 
cow  was  presented  with  my  compliments  to  my 
neighbor,  Mrs.  Smith,  under  promise  of  secrecy  (for 
I  knew  I  must  not  alarm  the  town  by  my  precipi- 
tate departure),  my  camp  equipage  brought  from  the 
warehouse,  my  belongings  all  packed.  As  the  sun 


An  Unexpected  Change  of  Base  165 

rose  next  morning,  I  greeted  him  from  my  seat  on 
a  trunk  in  an  open  wagon  on  my  way  to  Zuni,  the 
railway  station  fifteen  miles  away.  I  never  saw  a 
lovelier  morning.  The  cattle  were  all  afield  for  their 
early  breakfast  of  dewy  grass,  a  thin  line  of  smoke  was 
ascending  from  the  cottages  on  the  wayside.  The 
mother  could  be  seen  within,  preparing  breakfast  for 
the  children,  who  stood  in  the  door  to  gaze  at  us 
as  we  passed.  The  father  was  possibly  away  in  the 
army,  although  the  times  were  not  yet  so  stern  that 
every  man  became  a  conscript.  These  humbler 
folk  who  lived  close  to  the  highway  —  what  suffer- 
ings were  in  store  for  them  from  the  pillage  of  the 
common  soldier  !  What  terror  and  dismay  for  the 
dwellers  in  the  broad-porticoed,  many-chambered 
mansions  beyond  the  long  avenues  of  approach  in 
the  distance !  I  could  but  think  of  these  things 
when  I  heard  the  boom  of  guns  on  the  warships 
at  Newport  News,  sounds  to  which  my  ears  had 
grown  accustomed,  but  which  now  took  on,  some- 
how, a  new  meaning. 

I  soon  learned  that  the  Third  Virginia  Regiment 
moved  the  day  after  I  received  my  own  marching 
orders. 

McClellan  had  landed  about  one  hundred  thousand 
efficient  troops  on  the  Peninsula  for  the  movement 
upon  Richmond.  General  Joseph  E.  Johnston's 
line  of  about  fifty-three  thousand  men  extended 
across  the  narrow  neck  of  land  between  the  York 
and  the  James.  They  gave  McClellan  battle  May  5 
at  Williamsburg,  captured  four  hundred  unwounded 
prisoners,  ten  colors,  and  twelve  field-pieces,  slept  on 


1 66         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

the  field  of  battle,  and  marched  off  the  next  morn- 
ing at  their  leisure  and  convenience.  After  this  my 
Colonel  was  brevetted  Brigadier-General. 

The  news  of  his  probable  promotion  reached  me 
at  the  Exchange  Hotel  in  Richmond,  whither  I  had 
gone  that  I  might  be  near  headquarters,  and  thus 
learn  the  earliest  tidings  from  the  Peninsula.  There 
the  Colonel  joined  me  for  one  day.  We  read  with 
keen  interest  the  announcement  in  the  papers  that 
his  name  had  been  sent  in  by  the  president  for 
promotion.  Mrs.  Davis  held  a  reception  at  the 
Spotswood  Hotel  on  the  evening  following  this 
announcement,  and  we  availed  ourselves  of  the  op- 
portunity to  make  our  respects  to  her. 

A  crowd  gathered  before  the  Exchange  to  con- 
gratulate my  husband,  and  learning  that  he  had 
gone  to  the  Spotswood,  repaired  thither,  and  with 
many  shouts  and  cheers  called  him  out  for  a  speech. 
This  was  very  embarrassing,  and  he  fled  to  a  corner 
of  the  drawing-room  and  hid  behind  a  screen  of 
plants.  I  was  standing  near  the  president,  trying 
to  hold  his  attention  by  remarks  on  the  weather  and 
kindred  subjects  of  a  thrilling  nature,  when  a  voice 
from  the  street  called  6*ut :  "  Pryor  !  General  Pryor !  " 
I  could  endure  the  suspense  no  longer,  and  asked 
tremblingly,  "  Is  this  true,  Mr.  President  ?  "  Mr. 
Davis  looked  at  me  with  a  benevolent  smile  and 
said,  "  I  have  no  reason,  Madam,  to  doubt  it,  ex- 
cept that  I  saw  it  this  morning  in  the  papers/'  and 
Mrs.  Davis  at  once  summoned  the  bashful  Colonel : 
"  What  are  you  doing  lying  there  perdu  behind  the 
geraniums?  Come  out  and  take  your  honors." 


Battle  of  Fair  Oaks,  or  Seven  Pines       167 

The  next  day  my  bristling  eagles,  which  had  faith- 
fully held  guard  on  the  Colonel's  uniform,  retired 
before  the  risen  stars  of  the  Brigadier-General. 

On  May  3 1  "Old  Joe"  and  "Little  Mac/'  as 
they  were  affectionately  called  by  their  respective 
commands,  again  confronted  each  other,  and  fought 
the  great  two  days'  battle  of  Fair  Oaks,  or  Seven 
Pines. 

This  battle  was  said  to  have  been  one  of  the 
closest,  most  hotly  contested,  and  bloody  of  the 
war.  A  few  miles  from  Petersburg  the  cannonad- 
ing could  be  distinctly  heard,  and  ten  or  twelve  of 
the  Federal  observation  balloons  could  be  seen  in 
the  air. 

McClellan  had  an  army  of  one  hundred  thousand  ; 
Johnston  had  sixty-three  thousand.  The  afternoon 
and  night  before  a  terrible  storm  had  raged,  "  sheets 
of  fire,  lightning,  sharp  and  dreadful  thunderclaps, 
were  fit  precursors  of  the  strife  waged  by  the  artillery 
of  man. 

"  All  night  long  Zeus,  the  lord  of  counsel,  devised 
them  ill  with  terrible  thunderings.  Then  pale  fear 
gat  hold  upon  them."  l 

The  roads  were  deep  with  mud.  With  many  dis- 
advantages Johnston  attacked,  with  vigor,  the  corps 
of  Keyes  and  Heintzelman,  drove  them  back,  and 
came  near  inflicting  upon  them  a  crushing  defeat. 
Near  the  end  of  the  fight  General  Johnston  was 
wounded  and  borne  from  the  field,  smiling  and  say- 
ing, "  I'm  not  sure  I  am  much  hurt,  but  I  fear  that 
bit  of  shell  may  have  injured  my  spine." 

1  Rhodes's  "  History  of  the  United  States." 


1 68         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and   War 

He  had  already  been  wounded  by  a  musket-ball, 
his  enthusiasm  having  carried  him  nearer  to  the 
fight  than  a  commanding  officer  has  any  right  to  be. 

A  little  later  he  had  observed  one  of  his  colonels 
trying  to  dodge  the  shell. 

"  Colonel,"  he  said,  "  there  is  no  use  dodging ! 
When  you  hear  them,  they  have  passed." 

Just  then  he  fell  unconscious  into  the  arms  of  one 
of  his  couriers.  A  shell  had  exploded,  striking  him 
on  the  breast.  The  moment  he  regained  conscious- 
ness his  unwounded  hand  sought  his  sword  and 
pistols.  They  were  gone  ! 

"  I  would  not  lose  my  sword  for  ten  thousand 
dollars,"  he  exclaimed.  "  My  father  wore  it  in  the 
war  of  the  Revolution."  The  courier  —  Drury  L. 
Armstead  —  dashed  back  through  the  storm  of  artil- 
lery, found  both  sword  and  pistols,  brought  them 
safely,  and  received  one  of  the  pistols  as  a  token  of 
the  gratitude  of  his  chief. 1 

In  General  George  E.  Pickett's  report  of  this 
hard-won  battle  he  says,  "  Pryor  and  Wilcox  were 
on  my  right ;  our  men  moved  beautifully  and  carried 
everything  before  them." 

General  Johnston  was  succeeded  by  General  Lee. 
I  did  not  know  for  a  long  time  (for,  so  absorbing 
were  the  events  that  rapidly  followed,  the  honors 
of  battle  were  forgotten)  that,  after  the  capture  at 
Fair  Oaks  of  the  Federal  brigade  under  General 
Casey,  "  General  Roger  A.  Pryor  went  around 
among  the  wounded,  giving  them  whiskey  and  water, 
and  told  them  it  was  a  repayment  of  the  kindness 

1  "  Memoirs  of  J.  E.  Johnston,*'  by  General  Bradley  Johnson,  p.  72. 


Tribute  to  General  McClellan  169 

with  which  the  wounded  Confederate  prisoners  were 
treated  at  c  Williamsburg,'  " l  —  an  incident  which  I 
hope  I  may  be  pardoned  for  relating,  since  the  gen- 
erous tribute  affords  an  example  of  the  spirit  of  that 
true  Christian  gentleman,  General  McClellan. 

"  He  never  struck  a  foul  blow  and  never  tolerated 
mean  men  or  mean  methods  about  him.  His  was 
a  high  ideal  of  war,  a  high  sense  of  chivalry  which  is 
the  duty  of  fighting  the  belligerent  and  sparing  the 
weak.  His  conduct  was  keyed  to  the  highest  point 
of  honor  and  generosity  in  war."  When  his  march 
led  him  to  the  "  White  House/'  whence  General 
Washington  took  his  bride,  Martha  Custis,  he 
ordered  a  guard  to  be  placed  around  it ;  and  finding 
himself  alone  in  St.  Peter's  Church,  where  Washing- 
ton was  married,  he  records  in  his  diary,  "  I  could 
not  help  kneeling  at  the  chancel  and  praying  that  I 
might  save  my  country  as  truly  as  he  did."  This 
was  just  before  the  battle  at  Seven  Pines,  in  which 
there  were  probably  arrayed  against  him  the  near 
kindred  of  Martha  Washington.  What  would  they 
have  thought  of  the  invading  general's  prayer  to 
"  save  the  country  "  ?  And  his  country  !  And  at 
the  altar  he  held  in  especial  homage  because  of  their 
grandsire  ! 

Like  McClellan,  Johnston  had  not  the  good 
fortune  to  be  in  accord  with  his  Executive.  "  Not 
only,"  said  an  Old  Virginian  to  him  as  he  lay  suffer- 
ing from  his  severe  wounds,  "  not  only  do  we  de- 
plore this  cruel  affliction  upon  you,  General,  but  we 
feel  it  to  be  a  national  calamity." 

1  "McClellan's  Own  Story,"  p.  338. 


170          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

"  No,  sir,"  said  Johnston,  fiercely,  rising  suddenly 
upon  his  unbroken  elbow.  "  The  shot  that  struck 
me  down  was  the  best  ever  fired  for  the  Southern 
Confederacy,  for  I  possessed  in  no  degree  the  con- 
fidence of  this  government,  and  now  a  man  who 
does  enjoy  it  will  succeed  me,  and  be  able  to  accom- 
plish what  I  never  could." 

The  man  who  succeeded  him,  General  Lee,  wrote 
to  the  Secretary  of  War :  "If  General  Johnston  was 
not  a  soldier,  America  never  produced  one.  If  he 
was  not  competent  to  command  the  army,  the  Con- 
federacy had  no  one  who  was  competent."  But 
even  Lee  could  not  control  the  opinions  of  the 
Executive.  General  Johnston  was  relieved  from  his 
command  in  1864.  General  McClellan's  treatment, 
as  the  world  knows,  was  hardly  less  severe  and  quite 
as  undeserved. 

Richmond  heard  the  guns  of  this  bloody  battle. 
As  soon  as  the  storm  allowed  them,  crowds  of 
anxious  listeners  repaired  to  the  hills,  from  which 
the  cannonading  and  rattle  of  musketry  could  be 
distinctly  heard.  The  city  waked  up  to  a  keen 
realization  of  the  horrors  of  war.  All  the  next  day 
ambulances  brought  in  the  wounded  —  and  open 
wagons  were  laden  with  the  dead.  Six  thousand 
one  hundred  and  thirty-four  Confederate  soldiers 
had  been  killed;  the  Federal  loss  was  five  thousand 
and  thirty-one,  —  eleven  thousand  one  hundred  and 
sixty-five  brave  men  gone  from  the  country  that 
gave  them  birth ! 

The  streets  of  Richmond  presented  a  strange 
scene  —  ambulances  of  wounded  and  dying  men 


Richmond  after  the  Battle  of  Seven  Pines    171 

passed  companies  arriving  on  their  way  to  the  front, 
and  each  cheered  the  other.  Batteries  of  artillery 
thundered  through  the  streets ;  messengers  and 
couriers  ran  hither  and  thither. 

The  streets  were  filled  with  a  motley  crowd, 
citizens  hurrying  to  and  fro,  negroes  running  on 
messages,  newsboys  crying  "  extras  "  printed  on  short 
slips  of  the  yellow  Confederate  paper ;  on  one  side 
of  the  street  regiments  arriving  from  the  far  South, 
cheering  as  they  passed;  on  the  other  a  train  of 
ambulances  bearing  the  wounded,  the  dead,  the 
dying.  Now  and  then  a  feeble  cheer  answered  the 
strong  men  going  in  to  win  the  victory  these  had 
failed  to  win,  but  for  which  they  never  ceased  to 
look  until  death  closed  the  watching  eyes. 

Every  house  was  opened  for  the  wounded.  They 
lay  on  verandas,  in  halls,  in  drawing-rooms  of  stately 
mansions.  Young  girls  and  matrons  stood  in  their 
doorways  with  food  and  fruit  for  the  marching  sol- 
diers, and  then  turned  to  minister  to  the  wounded 
men  within  their  doors. 

It  has  been  estimated  that  five  thousand  wounded 
men  were  received  in  private  houses  and  hospitals 
from  the  field  of  Seven  Pines.  The  city  was 
thrilled  to  its  centre.  The  city  had  "  no  language 
but  a  cry  "  !  And  yet  there  was  no  panic,  no  frantic 
excitement.  Only  that  Richmond,  the  mirth-loving, 
pleasure-seeking,  was  changed  into  a  city  of  resolute 
men  and  women,  nerved  to  make  any  sacrifice  for 
their  cause. 

At  all  times  during  the  war  the  Capitol  Square 
was  a  rallying  place  where  men  met  and  received 


172          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

news  and  compared  chances  of  success.  They  would 
sit  all  day  on  the  hills  outside  the  city  and  congregate 
in  the  square  in  the  evening  to  discuss  the  events 
of  the  day  and  the  probable  chances  for  the  morrow. 

My  news  of  this  battle  was  coupled  with  the 
information  that  my  General  had  fallen  ill  from 
malarial  fever,  and  had  kept  up  until  the  army 
approached  Richmond,  but  that  he  was  now  lying 
sick  in  his  tent  a  few  miles  from  the  city. 

There  I  found  him.  It  seemed  strange  to  see 
the  daisies  growing  all  over  the  ground  on  which  his 
little  tent  was  pitched.  I  obtained  leave  to  move 
him  at  once,  and  took  him  to  the  Spotswood  Hotel 
in  Richmond.  "  He  wants  nothing  now,"  said  kind 
Dr.  Dean,  "  except  some  buttermilk  and  good 
nursing." 

The  hotel  was  crowded.  President  and  Mrs. 
Davis  were  there,  Mrs.  Joseph  E.  Johnston,  Mrs. 
Myers,  wife  of  the  quartermaster-general,  and 
many,  many  more  whose  names  are  familiar  in  all 
the  war  histories.  Everybody  was  on  the  alert  and 
on  the  qui  vive. 

From  my  windows  I  witnessed  the  constant  arrival 
of  officers  from  every  division  of  the  army.  The 
Louisiana  Zouaves  were  an  interesting  company 
of  men.  Their  handsome  young  French  Colonel 
Coppens  was  a  fine  example  of  grace  and  manly 
beauty.  He  would  dash  up  to  the  door  on  his 
handsome  horse,  dismount,  run  up  the  stairs  for  a 
word  with  some  official,  run  down  again,  vault 
lightly  into  his  saddle,  and  gallop  down  the  street. 
No  one  was  more  admired  than  Colonel  Coppens. 


Feminine  Jealousies  and  Heartburnings     173 

I  had  not  visited  the  drawing-room  often  before  I 
became  aware  that  a  bitter  feud  existed  between  the 
three  eminent  ladies  I  have  mentioned  —  indeed, 
the  Richmond  Examiner  gave  a  most  amusing  ac- 
count of  one  of  their  spicy  interviews.  Jealousy 
and  consequent  heartburning  had  possessed  the 
bosoms  of  these  ladies  —  do  they  not  intrude  into 
every  court  and  camp  ?  And  here  were  court  and 
camp  merged  into  one.  Had  I  remained  idle  I 
should  probably  have  ranged  myself  on  the  side  of 
my  ci-devant  commanding  officer,  Mrs.  Johnston; 
but  matters  of  tremendous  importance  soon  filled 
every  mind  and  heart. 

This  was  the  last  reunion  ot  old  Washington 
friends  we  were  to  enjoy.  With  some  of  the 
members  of  the  Thirty-sixth  Congress  we  parted 
at  the  Spotswood  Hotel  to  meet  no  more  on  earth. 
Others  met  on  the  battle-field  under  circumstances 
of  which  they  little  dreamed  when  the  "  state  of  the 
country  "  was  under  discussion. 

One  of  the  warmest  secessionists  was  L.  Q.  C. 
Lamar.  His  devoted  friend,  General  Pryor,  had 
parted  with  him  immediately  upon  the  secession  of 
South  Carolina.  Their  next  meeting  was  at  the 
battle  of  Williamsburg.  This  battle  was  fought  in 
the  woods,  and  the  danger  was  enhanced  by  the 
falling  boughs  of  the  trees.  Behind  the  shelter  of 
a  stout  oak  my  husband  found  his  old  friend  Colo- 
nel Lamar.  "Oh,  Pryor,'*  he  exclaimed,  as  the 
shot  and  shell  crashed  through  the  branches, 
"what  do  you  think  now  of  the  right  of  peace- 
able secession  ? " 


CHAPTER   XIII 

THE    SEVEN    DAYS*    BATTLES 

THE  intense  heat  of  June  26th  has  been  noted 
in  many  of  the  diaries  and  records  of  the 
day.  I  remember  it  because  I  had  feared  its 
unfavorable  effect  upon  my  husband,  not  yet  dis- 
charged by  his  physicians,  and  now  lying  weak  and 
listless  upon  his  bed  at  the  Spotswood  Hotel  in 
Richmond. 

I  was  reading  aloud  to  him  the  news  in  the  morn- 
ing papers,  fanning  him  the  while,  when  a  peremp- 
tory knock  at  the  door  sent  me  to  my  feet.  An 
ominous-looking  note  was  handed  in  to  "  Brigadier- 
General  Pryor."  Upon  reading  it,  my  husband 
slipped  to  the  side  of  the  bed,  and  reached  out  for 
his  cavalry  boots.  The  note  ran  :  "  Dear  General, 
put  yourself  at  once  at  the  head  of  your  brigade.  In 
thirty-six  hours  it  will  all  be  over.  LONGSTREET." 
Before  I  realized  the  tremendous  import  of  the  order, 
he  was  gone. 

McClellan  was  almost  at  the  gates  of  the  city. 
The  famous  "  seven  days'  fight "  was  about  to 
begin. 

Several  of  the  officers  of  our  brigade  were  in  the 
hotel,  and  I  ran  out  to  find  their  wives  and  learn 

174 


Advance  of  the  Third  Virginia  175 

more  news  from  them.  On  the  stair  I  met  Colonel 
Scott,  and  as  he  passed  me,  he  exclaimed,  "  No  time 
until  I  come  back,  Madam  !  "  Turning,  he  paused, 
raised  his  hand,  and  said  solemnly,  cc  If  I  ever  come 
back/'  The  wife  of  Captain  Poindexter  came  up  at 
the  moment.  She  was  weeping,  and  wringing  her 
hands.  "  Do  you  think,"  she  said,  "  that  we  could 
drive  out  to  camp  and  see  them  once  more  before 
they  march  ? " 

We  hurried  into  the  street,  found  a  carriage,  and, 
urging  our  driver  to  his  utmost  speed,  were  soon  in 
sight  of  the  camp. 

All  was  hurry  and  confusion  there.  Ambulances 
were  hitching  up,  troops  forming  in  line,  servants 
running  hither  and  thither,  horses  standing  to  be 
saddled,  light  army  wagons  loading  with  various 
camp  utensils. 

Captain  Whitner  of  the  General's  staff  met  me, 
and  said,  as  he  conducted  me  to  my  husband's  tent : 
"  The  General  will  be  so  glad  to  see  you,  Madam  ! 
He  is  lying  down  to  rest  a  few  minutes  before  we 
move." 

He  opened  his  arms  to  me  as  I  went  in,  but  there 
were  no  sad  words.  We  spoke  cheerily  to  each 
other,  but,  unable  to  control  myself,  I  soon  ran  out 
to  find  John  and  see  that  he  had  provided  brandy 
and  cold  tea,  the  latter  a  necessity  lest  good  water 
should  be  unprocurable.  Never  have  I  seen  such 
a  number  of  flies  !  They  blackened  the  land,  cor- 
rupted the  food,  and  tormented  the  nervous  horses. 
When  I  returned,  Mrs.  Poindexter  was  standing 
outside  the  tent  waiting  for  me.  "  I  can  see  my 


Ij6         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

husband  only  at  the  head  of  his  company,"  she 
said.  "  Look  !  they  are  forming  the  line." 

We  stood  aside  as  the  brigade  formed  in  marching 
order.  The  stern  command,  "  Fall  in  !  Fall  in  !  " 
reached  us  from  company  after  company  stretching 
far  down  the  road.  My  husband  mounted  his  horse, 
and,  drawing  his  sword,  gave  the  order  to  advance. 

"  Head  of  column  to  the  right !  "  and  with  steady 
tramp  they  filed  past  us  —  past  the  only  two  women, 
of  the  many  who  loved  them,  who  had  known  of  their 
going  and  had  come  out  to  cheer  and  bless  them. 

We  could  not  bear  to  remain  a  moment  after  they 
left.  Finding  our  carriage,  we  were  about  to  enter, 
when  the  driver  pointed  back  with  his  whip.  There, 
sure  enough,  rose  the  puffs  of  blue  smoke  from 
McClellan's  guns  —  so  near,  so  near! 

We  set  our  faces  homeward,  two  stunned,  tear- 
less women,  neither  yet  able  to  comfort  the  other. 
Presently  the  carriage  stopped,  and  the  driver,  dis- 
mounting, came  to  the  door. 

"Lady,"  said  he,  "there's  a  man  lying  on  the 
roadside.  We  just  passed  him.  Maybe  he's  drunk, 
but  he  'pears  to  me  to  look  mighty  sick." 

Fanny  Poindexter  and  I  were  out  of  the  carriage 
in  less  than  a  minute,  eagerly  embracing  an  oppor- 
tunity for  action  —  the  relief  for  tense  feelings. 

The  man  wore  the  uniform  of  a  Confederate 
soldier.  His  eyes  were  closed.  Was  he  asleep  ? 
We  feared  the  worst  when  we  perceived  a  thin  thread 
of  blood  trickling  slowly  from  a  wound  in  his  throat, 
and  staining  his  shirt. 

We  knelt  beside  him,  and  Fanny  gently  pressed 


Saving  a  Soldier's  Life  177 

her  handkerchief  upon  the  wound,  whereupon  he 
opened  his  eyes,  but  was  unable  to  speak.  "  What 
in  the  world  are  we  to  do  ?  "  said  my  friend.  "  We 
can't  possibly  leave  him  here  !  " 

"  I  can  tote  him  to  the  carriage,"  said  the  kind- 
hearted  driver.  "He  ain'  no  heavy-weight,  an'  we 
can  car'  'im  to  dat  hospital  jus'  at  de  aidge  of 
town.  Come  now,  sir !  Don't  you  be  feared.  I'll 
tote  you  like  a  baby." 

We  were  terrified  lest  he  should  die  before  we 
reached  the  hospital.  To  avoid  jolting,  we  crawled 
at  a  snail's  pace,  and  great  was  our  relief  when  we 
drew  up  at  the  open  door  of  the  hospital  and  sum- 
moned a  surgeon.  He  ordered  out  a  stretcher  and 
took  our  patient  in,  and  we  waited  in  a  little  recep- 
tion room  until  we  could  learn  the  verdict  after  an 
examination  of  his  injuries. 

"  It  is  well  for  him,  poor  fellow,"  said  the  surgeon 
upon  returning  to  report  to  us,  "  that  you  found  him 
when  you  did.  His  wound  is  not  serious,  but  he 
was  slowly  bleeding  to  death  !  Which  of  you 
pressed  that  handkerchief  to  it  ?  "  I  had  to  acknowl- 
edge that  my  friend  had  rendered  this  service.  She 
was  one  of  those  nervous,  teary  little  women  who 
could  rise  to  an  occasion. 

"  He  had  probably  been  sent  to  the  rear  after  he 
was  wounded,  and  had  tried  to  find  General  Pryor's 
camp,"  said  the  doctor.  "  He  missed  his  way,  and 
went  farther  than  necessary.  It  has  all  turned  out 
right.  He  is  able  now  to  write  his  name  — '  Ernst- 
orff'  —  so  you  see  he  is  doing  well.  When  you 
pass  this  way,  you  must  call  and  see  him." 


178          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

We  never  went  that  way  again.  Two  years  after- 
ward I  was  accosted  at  a  railway  station  by  a  hand- 
some young  officer  who  said  he  "  had  never 
forgotten,  never  would  forget"  me.  He  was 
Lieutenant  Ernstorff! 

All  the  afternoon  the  dreadful  guns  shook  the 
earth  and  thrilled  our  souls  with  horror.  I  shut 
myself  in  my  darkened  room.  At  twilight  I  had  a 
note  from  Governor  Letcher,  telling  me  a  fierce 
battle  was  raging,  and  inviting  me  to  come  to  the 
Governor's  mansion.  From  the  roof  one  might 
see  the  flash  of  musket  and  artillery. 

No  !  I  did  not  wish  to  see  the  infernal  fires.  I 
preferred  to  watch  and  wait  alone  in  my  room'. 

The  city  was  strangely  quiet.  Everybody  had  gone 
out  to  the  hills  to  witness  the  aurora  of  death  to  which 
we  were  later  to  become  so  accustomed.  As  it  grew 
dark  a  servant  entered  to  light  my  candles,  but  I 
forbade  her.  Did  I  not  mean  to  go  to  supper? 
I  would  have  coffee  brought  to  me.  God  only 
knew  what  news  I  might  hear  before  morning.  I 
must  keep  up  my  strength. 

The  night  was  hot  and  close.  I  sat  at  an  open 
window,  watching  for  couriers  on  the  street.  The 
firing  ceased  about  nine  o'clock.  Surely  now  some- 
body would  remember  us  and  come  to  us. 

As  I  leaned  on  the  window-sill  with  my  head  on 
my  arms,  I  saw  two  young  men  walking  slowly  down 
the  deserted  street.  They  paused  at  a  closed  door 
opposite  me  and  sat  down  upon  the  low  step. 
Presently  they  chanted  a  mournful  strain  in  a 
minor  key  —  like  one  of  the  occasional  interludes  of 


The  Midnight  Vigil  179 

Chopin  which  reveal  so  much  of  dignity  in  sorrow. 
I  was  powerfully  affected  —  as  I  always  am  by  such 
music  —  and  found  myself  weeping,  not  for  my 
own  changed  life,  not  for  my  own  sorrows,  but  for 
the  dear  city;  the  dear,  doomed  city,  so  loved,  so 
loved ! 

A  full  moon  was  rising  behind  the  trees  in  the 
Capitol  Square.  Soon  the  city  would  be  flooded 
with  light,  and  then!  —  would  the  invading  host 
come  in  to  desecrate  and  destroy  ?  How  dear  the 
city  had  been  to  me  always  !  I  could  remember 
when  I  was  a  very  little  child  one  just  such  night  as 
this.  The  splendor,  the  immensity  of  the  city  had 
so  oppressed  me,  coming,  as  I  had  come,  from  the 
quiet  country,  that  I  could  not  sleep.  Hot  and 
fevered  and  afraid,  I  had  risen  from  my  little  bed 
beside  my  sleeping  mother,  and  had  stolen  to  the 
window  to  look  out.  Like  to-night  there  was  a 
solemn  moon  in  the  sky,  like  to-night  an  awful 
stillness  in  the  city.  Just  below  me  a  watchman 
had  called  out,  "All's  well!"  Presently  the  cry 
was  repeated  at  a  distance  —  "  All's  well !  "  Fainter 
and  fainter  grew  the  echo  until  it  became  a  whisper, 
far  away  in  the  distant  streets.  The  watchmen  were 
telling  me,  I  thought,  telling  all  the  helpless  little 
babies  and  children,  all  the  sick  people  and  old 
people,  that  God  was  taking  care  of  them ;  that 
"  All's  well,  All's  well." 

Ah !  forever  gone  was  the  watchman,  forever 
silent  the  cry.  Never,  never  again  could  all  be  well 
with  us  in  old  Virginia.  Never  could  we  stifle  the 
memories  of  this  bitter  hour.  The  watchman  on 


180         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

the  nation's  tower  might,  some  day,  mark  the 
triumphant  return  of  this  invading  host,  and  declare, 
"  All's  well,"  —  our  hearts  would  never  hear.  Too 
much  blood,  too  much  death,  too  much  anguish  ! 
Our  tears  would  never  be  able  to  wash  away  the 
memory  of  it  all. 

And  so  the  night  wore  on  and  I  waited  and 
watched.  Before  dawn  a  hurried  footstep  brought 
a  message  from  the  battle-field  to  my  door. 

"  The  General,  Madam,  is  safe  and  well.  Colonel 
Scott  has  been  killed.  The  General  has  placed  a 
guard  around  his  body,  and  he  will  be  sent  here 
early  to-morrow.  The  General  bids  me  say  he  will 
not  return.  The  fight  will  be  renewed,  and  will 
continue  until  the  enemy  is  driven  away.0 

My  resolution  was  taken.  My  children  were 
safe  with  their  grandmother.  I  would  write.  I 
would  ask  that  every  particle  of  my  household 
linen,  except  a  change,  should  be  rolled  into  band- 
ages, all  my  fine  linen  be  sent  to  me  for  compresses, 
and  all  forwarded  as  soon  as  possible. 

I  would  enter  the  new  hospital  which  had  been 
improvised  in  Kent  &  Paine' s  warehouse,  and  would 
remain  there  as  a  nurse  as  long  as  the  armies  were 
fighting  around  Richmond. 

But  the  courier  was  passing  on  his  rounds  with 
news  for  others.  Presently  Fanny  Poindexter,  in 
tears,  knocked  at  my  door. 

"  She  is  bearing  it  like  a  brave,  Christian  woman." 

"  She  I     Who  ?     Tell  me  quick." 

"  Mrs.  Scott.  I  had  to  tell  her.  She  simply 
said,  c  I  shall  see  him  once  more/  The  General 


Work  in  the  Hospital  181 

wrote  to  her  from  the  battle-field  and  told  her  how 
nobly  her  husband  died,  —  leading  his  men  in  the 
thick  of  the  fight,  —  and  how  he  had  helped  to  save 
the  city." 

Alas,  that  the  city  should  have  needed  saving  ! 
What  had  Mrs.  Scott  and  her  children  done  ?     Why 
hould  they  suffer  ?     Who  was  to  blame  for  it  all  ? 
ent  &  Paine's  warehouse  was  a  large,  airy  build- 
which  had,  I  understood,  been  offered  by  the 
rietors  for  a  hospital  immediately  after  the  battle 
ven  Pines.      McClelland  advance  upon  Rich- 

nd  had  heavily  taxed  the  capacity  of  the  hospitals 
already  established. 

When  I  reached  the  warehouse,  early  on  the  morn- 
ing after  the  fight  at  Mechanics ville,  I  found  cots  on 
the  lower  floor  already  occupied,  and  other  cots  in 
process  of  preparation.  An  aisle  between  the  rows 
of  narrow  beds  stretched  to  the  rear  of  the  building. 
Broad  stairs  led  to  a  story  above,  where  other  cots 
were  being  laid. 

The  volunteer  matron  was  a  beautiful  Baltimore 
woman,  Mrs.  Wilson.  When  I  was  presented  to 
her  as  a  candidate  for  admission,  her  serene  eyes 
rested  doubtfully  upon  me  for  a  moment.  She  hesi- 
tated. Finally  she  said :  "  The  work  is  very  exact- 
ing. There  are  so  few  of  us  that  our  nurses  must 
do  anything  and  everything  —  make  beds,  wait  upon 
anybody,  and  often  a  half  a  dozen  at  a  time." 

"  I  will  engage  to  do  all  that,"  I  declared,  and  she 
permitted  me  to  go  to  a  desk  at  the  farther  end  of 
the  room  and  enter  my  name. 

As  I  passed  by  the  rows  of  occupied  cots,  I  saw  a 


1 82          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

nurse  kneeling  beside  one  of  them,  holding  a  pan 
for  a  surgeon.  The  red  stump  of  an  amputated  arm 
was  held  over  it.  The  next  thing  I  knew  I  was 
myself  lying  on  a  cot,  and  a  spray  of  cold  water  was 
falling  over  my  face.  I  had  fainted.  Opening  my 
eyes,  I  found  the  matron  standing  beside  me. 

"You  see  it  is  as  I  thought.  You  are  unfit  for 
this  work.  One  of  the  nurses  will  conduct  you 
home." 

The  nurse's  assistance  was  declined,  however.  I 
had  given  trouble  enough  for  one  day,  and  had  only 
interrupted  those  who  were  really  worth  something. 

A  night's  vigil  had  been  poor  preparation  for  hos- 
pital work.  I  resolved  I  would  conquer  my  cul- 
pable weakness.  It  was  all  very  well,  —  these  heroics 
in  which  I  indulged,  these  paroxysms  of  patriotism, 
this  adoration  of  the  defenders  of  my  fireside.  The 
defender  in  the  field  had  naught  to  hope  from  me 
in  case  he  should  be  wounded  in  my  defence. 

I  took  myself  well  in  hand.  Why  had  I  fainted  ? 
I  thought  it  was  because  of  the  sickening,  dead  odor 
in  the  hospital,  mingled  with  that  of  acids  and  dis- 
infectants. Of  course  this  would  always  be  there  — 
and  worse,  as  wounded  men  filled  the  rooms.  I 
provided  myself  with  sal  volatile  and  spirits  of  cam- 
phor, —  we  wore  pockets  in  our  gowns  in  those  days, 
—  and  thus  armed  I  presented  myself  again  to  Mrs. 
Wilson. 

She  was  as  kind  as  she  was  refined  and  intelligent. 
"  I  will  give  you  a  place  near  the  door,"  she  said, 
"  and  you  must  run  out  into  the  air  at  the  first  hint 
of  faintness.  You  will  get  over  it,  see  if  you  don't." 


Miss  Deborah  Couch  183 

Ambulances  began  to  come  in  and  unload  at  the 
door.  I  soon  had  occupation  enough,  and  a  few 
drops  of  camphor  on  my  handkerchief  tided  me  over 
the  worst.  The  wounded  men  crowded  in  and  sat 
patiently  waiting  their  turn.  One  fine  little  fellow 
of  fifteen  unrolled  a  handkerchief  from  his  wrist  to 
show  me  his  wound.  "  There's  a  bullet  in  there," 
he  said  proudly.  "  I'm  going  to  have  it  cut  out, 
and  then  go  right  back  to  the  fight.  Isn't  it  lucky 
it's  my  left  hand  ?  " 

As  the  day  wore  on  I  became  more  and  more 
absorbed  in  my  work.  I  had,  too,  the  stimulus  of 
a  reproof  from  Miss  Deborah  Couch,  a  brisk,  effi- 
cient middle-aged  lady,  who  asked  no  quarter  and 
gave  none.  She  was  standing  beside  me  a  moment, 
with  a  bright  tin  pan  filled  with  pure  water,  into 
which  I  foolishly  dipped  a  finger  to  see  if  it  were 
warm ;  to  learn  if  I  would  be  expected  to  provide 
warm  water  when  I  should  be  called  upon  to  assist 
the  surgeon. 

"  This  water,  Madam,  was  prepared  for  a  raw 
wound,"  said  Miss  Deborah,  sternly.  "  I  must 
now  make  the  surgeon  wait  until  I  get  more." 

Miss  Deborah,  in  advance  of  her  time,  was  a  germ 
theorist.  My  touch  evidently  was  contaminating. 

As  she  charged  down  the  aisle  with  a  pan  of  water 
in  her  hand,  everybody  made  way.  She  had  known 
of  my  "  fine-lady  faintness,"  as  she  termed  it,  and  I 
could  see  she  despised  me  for  it.  She  had  volun- 
teered, as  all  the  nurses  had,  and  she  meant  busi- 
ness. She  had  no  patience  with  nonsense,  and  truly 
she  was  worth  more  than  all  the  rest  of  us. 


184         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

"  Where  can  I  get  a  little  ice  ? "  I  one  day  ven- 
tured of  Miss  Deborah. 

"  Find  it,"  she  rejoined,  as  she  rapidly  passed  on ; 
but  find  it  I  never  did.  Ice  was  an  unknown 
luxury  until  brought  to  us  later  from  private  houses. 

But  I  found  myself  thoroughly  reinstated  —  with 
surgeons,  matron,  and  Miss  Deborah  —  when  I 
appeared  a  few  days  later,  accompanied  by  a  man 
bearing  a  basket  of  clean,  well-rolled  bandages,  with 
promise  of  more  to  come.  The  Petersburg  women 
had  gone  to  work  with  a  will  upon  my  table-cloths, 
sheets,  and  dimity  counterpanes  —  and  even  the 
chintz  furniture  covers.  My  springlike  green  and 
white  chintz  bandages  appeared  on  many  a  manly 
arm  and  leg.  My  fine  linen  underwear  and  napkins 
were  cut,  by  the  sewing  circle  at  the  Spotswood, 
according  to  the  surgeon's  directions,  into  lengths 
two  inches  wide,  then  folded  two  inches,  doubling 
back  and  forth  in  a  smaller  fold  each  time,  until 
they  formed  pointed  wedges  for  compresses. 

Such  was  the  sudden  and  overwhelming  demand 
for  such  things,  that  but  for  my  own  and  similar 
donations  of  household  linen,  the  wounded  men 
would  have  suffered.  The  war  had  come  upon  us 
suddenly.  Many  of  our  ports  were  already  closed, 
and  we  had  no  stores  laid  up  for  such  an  emergency. 

The  bloody  battle  of  Gaines's  Mill  soon  followed 
—  then  Frazier's  Farm,  within  the  week,  and  at  once 
the  hospital  was  filled  to  overflowing.  Every  night 
a  courier  brought  me  tidings  of  my  husband.  When 
I  saw  him  at  the  door  my  heart  would  die  within  me  ! 
One  morning  John  came  in  for  certain  supplies. 


Fortitude  of  the  Wounded  185 

After  being  reassured  as  to  his  master's  safety,  I 
asked,  "  Did  he  have  a  comfortable  night,  John  ? " 

"  He  sholy  did  !  Marse  Roger  cerr/nly  was  com- 
fortable las'  night.  He  slep'  on  de  field  'twixt  two 
daid  horses !  " 

The  women  who  worked  in  Kent  &  Paine's  hos- 
pital never  seemed  to  weary.  After  a  while  the 
wise  matron  assigned  us  hours,  and  we  went  on 
duty  with  the  regularity  of  trained  nurses.  My 
hours  were  from  seven  to  seven  during  the  day,  with 
the  promise  of  night  service  should  I  be  needed. 
Efficient,  kindly  colored  women  assisted  us.  Their 
motherly  manner  soothed  the  prostrate  soldier,  whom 
they  always  addressed  as  "  son." 

Many  fine  young  fellows  lost  their  lives  for  want 
of  prompt  attention.  They  never  murmured.  They 
would  give  way  to  those  who  seemed  to  be  more 
seriously  wounded  than  themselves,  and  the  latter 
would  recover,  while  from  the  slighter  wounds  gan- 
grene would  supervene  from  delay.  Very  few  men 
ever  walked  away  from  that  hospital.  They  died, 
or  friends  found  quarters  for  them  in  the  homes  in 
Richmond.  None  complained  !  Unless  a  poor  man 
grew  delirious,  he  never  groaned.  There  was  an 
atmosphere  of  gentle  kindness,  a  suppression  of  emo- 
tion for  the  sake  of  others. 

Every  morning  the  Richmond  ladies  brought  for 
our  patients  such  luxuries  as  could  be  procured  in 
that  scarce  time.  The  city  was  in  peril,  and  distant 
farmers  feared  to  bring  in  their  fruits  and  vegetables. 
One  day  a  patient-looking  middle-aged  man  said  to 
me,  "  What  would  I  not  give  for  a  bowl  of  chicken 


1 86         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

broth  like  that  my  mother  used  to  give  me  when  I 
was  a  sick  boy  ! "  I  perceived  one  of  the  angelic 
matrons  of  Richmond  at  a  distance,  stooping  over 
the  cots,  and  found  my  way  to  her  and  said :  "  Dear 
Mrs.  Maben,  have  you  a  chicken  ?  And  could  you 
send  some  broth  to  No.  39  ?  "  She  promised,  and  I 
returned  with  her  promise  to  the  poor  wounded 
fellow.  He  shook  his  head.  "  To-morrow  will  be 
too  late,"  he  said. 

I  had  forgotten  the  circumstance  next  day,  but  at 
noon  I  happened  to  look  toward  cot  No.  39,  and 
there  was  Mrs.  Maben  herself.  She  had  brought 
the  chicken  broth  in  a  pretty  china  bowl,  with  nap- 
kin and  silver  spoon,  and  was  feeding  my  doubting 
Thomas,  to  his  great  satisfaction. 

It  was  at  this  hospital,  I  have  reason  to  believe, 
that  the  little  story  originated,  which  was  deemed 
good  enough  to  be  claimed  by  other  hospitals, 
of  the  young  girl  who  approached  a  sick  man  with 
a  pan  of  water  in  her  hand  and  a  towel  over  her 
arm. 

"  Mayn't  I  wash  your  face  ?  "  said  the  girl,  timidly. 

"Well,  lady,  you  may  if  you  want  to,"  said  the 
man,  wearily.  "  It  has  been  washed  fourteen  times 
this  morning  !  It  can  stand  another  time,  I  reckon." 

I  discovered  that  I  had  not  succeeded,  despite 
many  efforts,  in  winning  Miss  Deborah.  I  learned 
that  she  was  affronted  because  I  had  not  shared  my 
offerings  of  jelly  and  fruit  with  her,  for  her  special 
patients.  Whenever  I  ventured  to  ask  a  loan  from 
her,  of  a  pan  or  a  glass  for  water  or  the  little  things 
of  which  we  never  had  enough,  she  would  reply,  "  I 


Hospital  Experiences  187 

must  keep  them  for  the  nurses  who  understand  reci- 
procity. Reciprocity  is  a  rule  some  persons  never 
seem  to  comprehend."  When  this  was  hammered 
into  my  slow  perception,  I  rose  to  the  occasion.  I 
turned  over  the  entire  contents  of  a  basket  the  landlord 
of  the  Spotswood  had  given  me  to  Miss  Deborah,  and 
she  made  my  path  straight  before  me  ever  afterward. 

At  the  end  of  a  week  the  matron  had  promoted 
me  !  Instead  of  carving  the  fat  bacon,  to  be  dispensed 
with  corn  bread,  for  the  hospital  dinner,  or  standing 
between  two  rough  men  to  keep  away  the  flies,  or 
fetching  water,  or  spreading  sheets  on  cots,  I  was 
assigned  to  regular  duty  with  one  patient. 

The  first  of  these  proved  to  be  young  Colonel 
Coppens,  of  my  husband's  brigade.  I  could  com- 
fort him  very  little,  for  he  was  wounded  past  recov- 
ery. I  spoke  little  French,  and  could  only  try  to 
keep  him,  as  far  as  possible,  from  annoyance.  To 
my  great  relief,  place  was  found  for  him  in  a  private 
family.  There  he  soon  died  —  the  gallant  fellow  I 
had  admired  on  his  horse  a  few  months  before. 

Then  I  was  placed  beside  the  cot  of  Mr.  (or  Cap- 
tain) Boyd  of  Mecklenburg,  and  was  admonished  by 
the  matron  not  to  leave  him  alone.  He  was  the  most 
patient  sufferer  in  the  world,  gentle,  courteous,  always 
considerate,  never  complaining.  I  observed  he  often 
closed  his  eyes  and  sighed.  "  Are  you  in  pain,  Cap- 
tain ?  "  "  No,  no,"  he  would  say  gently.  One  day, 
when  I  returned  from  my  "  rest,"  I  found  the  matron 
sitting  beside  him.  Tears  were  running  down  her 
cheeks.  She  motioned  me  to  take  her  place,  and 
then  added,  "  No,  no,  I  will  not  leave  him." 


1 88          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

The  Captain's  eyes  were  closed,  and  he  sighed  wear- 
ily at  intervals.  Presently  he  whispered  slowly  :  — 

"  There  everlasting  spring  abides," 

then  sighed,  and  seemed  to  sleep  for  a  moment. 

The  matron  felt  his  pulse  and  raised  a  warning 
hand.  The  sick  man's  whisper  went  on  :  — 

"  Bright  fields  beyond  the  swelling  flood 
Stand  —  dressed  —  in  living  green. ' ' 

The  surgeon  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  cot  and 
shook  his  head.  The  nurses  gathered  around  with 
tearful  eyes.  Presently  in  clear  tones  :  — 

"Not  Jordan's  stream  —  nor  death* s  cold  flood 
Shall  fright  us  —  from  —  the  shore," 

and  in  a  moment  more  the  Christian  soldier  had 
crossed  the  river  and  lain  down  to  rest  under  the 
trees. 

Each  of  the  battles  of  those  seven  days  brought 
a  harvest  of  wounded  to  our  hospital.  I  used 
to  veil  myself  closely  as  I  walked  to  and  from  my 
hotel,  that  I  might  shut  out  the  dreadful  sights 
in  the  street,  —  the  squads  of  prisoners,  and,  worst 
of  all,  the  open  wagons  in  which  the  dead  were 
piled.  Once  I  did  see  one  of  these  dreadful  wagons ! 
In  it  a  stiff  arm  was  raised,  and  shook  as  it  was 
driven  down  the  street,  as  though  the  dead  owner 
appealed  to  Heaven  for  vengeance ;  a  horrible  sight 
never  to  be  forgotten. 

After  one  of  the  bloody  battles  —  I  know  not  if 


A  Dying  Colonel  as  a  Courteous  Host     189 

it  was  Gaines's  Mill  or  Frazier's  Farm  or  Malvern 
Hill  —  a  splendid  young  officer,  Colonel  Broken- 
borough,  was  taken  to  our  hospital,  shot  almost  to 
pieces.  He  was  borne  up  the  stairs  and  placed  in  a 
cot  —  his  broken  limbs  in  supports  swinging  from 
the  ceiling.  The  wife  of  General  Mahone  and  I 
were  permitted  to  assist  in  nursing  him.  A  young 
soldier  from  the  camp  was  detailed  to  help  us,  and 
a  clergyman  was  in  constant  attendance,  coming  at 
night  that  we  might  rest.  Our  patient  held  a  court 
in  his  corner  of  the  hospital.  Such  a  dear,  gallant, 
cheery  fellow,  handsome,  and  with  a  grand  air  even 
as  he  lay  prostrate  !  Nobody  ever  heard  him  com- 
plain. He  would  welcome  us  in  the  morning  with 
the  brightest  smile.  His  aide  said,  "  He  watches 
the  head  of  the  stairs  and  calls  up  that  look  for 
your  benefit.''  "  Oh,"  he  said  one  day,  "  you  can't 
guess  what's  going  to  happen  !  Some  ladies  have 
been  here  and  left  all  these  roses,  and  cologne, 
and  such  ;  and  somebody  has  sent  —  champagne ! 
We  are  going  to  have  a  party ! " 

Ah,  but  we  knew  he  was  very  ill !  We  were  bid- 
den to  watch  him  every  minute  and  not  be  deceived 
by  his  own  spirits.  Mrs.  Mahone  spent  her  life 
hunting  for  ice.  My  constant  care  was  to  keep  his 
canteen  —  to  which  he  clung  with  affection  —  filled 
with  fresh  water  from  a  spring  not  far  away,  and  I 
learned  to  give  it  to  him  so  well  that  I  allowed  no 
one  to  lift  his  head  for  his  drink  during  my  hours. 

One  day,  when  we  were  alone,  I  was  fanning  him, 
and  thought  he  was  asleep.  He  said  gravely,  "  Mrs. 
Pryor,  beyond  that  curtain  they  hung  up  yesterday 


190         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

poor  young  Mitchell  is  lying !  They  think  I  don't 
know  !  But  I  heard  when  they  brought  him  in,  — 
as  I  lie  here,  I  listen  to  his  breathing.  I  haven't 
heard  it  now  for  some  time.  Would  you  mind  see- 
ing if  he  is  all  right  ? " 

I  passed  behind  the  curtain.  The  young  soldier 
was  dead.  His  wide-open  eyes  seemed  to  meet 
mine  in  mute  appeal.  I  had  never  seen  or  touched 
a  dead  man,  but  I  laid  my  hands  upon  his  eyelids 
and  closed  them.  I  was  standing  thus  when  his 
nurse,  a  young  volunteer  like  myself,  came  to  me. 

"  I  couldn't  do  that,"  she  said ;  "  I  went  for  the 
doctor.  I'm  so  glad  you  could  do  it." 

When  I  returned  Colonel  Brokenborough  asked 
no  questions  and  I  knew  that  his  keen  senses  had 
already  instructed  him. 

To  be  cheerful  and  uncomplaining  was  the  un- 
written law  of  our  hospital.  No  bad  news  was  ever 
mentioned,  no  foreboding  or  anxiety.  Mrs.  Mahone 
was  one  day  standing  beside  Colonel  Brokenbor- 
ough when  a  messenger  from  the  front  suddenly 
announced  that  General  Mahone  had  received  a 
flesh-wound.  Commanding  herself  instantly,  she 
exclaimed  merrily  :  "  F/esh-wound  I  Now  you  all 
know  that  is  just  impossible''  The  General  had  no 
flesh !  He  was  as  thin  and  attenuated  as  he  was 
brave. 

As  Colonel  Brokenborough  grew  weaker  I  felt 
self-reproach  that  no  one  had  offered  to  write  letters 
for  him.  His  friend  the  clergyman  had  said  to  me: 
"That  poor  boy  is  engaged  to  a  lovely  young  girl. 
I  wonder  what  is  best  ?  Would  it  grieve  him  to 


Death  of  Colonel  Brokenborough          191 

speak  of  her  ?  You  ladies  have  so  much  tact ;  you 
might  bear  it  in  mind.  An  opportunity  might  offer 
for  you  to  discover  how  he  feels  about  it."  The 
next  time  I  was  alone  with  him  I  ventured :  "  Now, 
Colonel,  one  mustn't  forget  absent  friends,  you 
know,  even  if  fair  ladies  do  bring  perfumes  and 
roses  and  what  not.  I  have  some  ink  and  paper 
here.  •  Shall  I  write  a  letter  for  you  ?  Tell  me  what 
to  say/' 

He  turned  his  head  and  with  a  half-amused  smile 
of  perfect  intelligence  looked  at  me  for  a  long  time. 
Then  an  upward  look  of  infinite  tenderness  ;  but 
the  message  was  never  sent  —  never  needed  from  a 
true  heart  like  his. 

One  night  I  was  awakened  from  my  first  sleep 
by  a  knock  at  my  door,  and  a  summons  to  "  come 
to  Colonel  Brokenborough."  When  I  reached  his 
bedside  I  found  the  surgeon,  the  clergyman,  and 
the  Colonel's  aide.  The  patient  was  unconscious ; 
the  end  was  near.  We  sat  in  silence.  Once,  when 
he  stirred,  I  slipped  my  hand  under  his  head,  and 
put  his  canteen  once  more  to  his  lips.  After  a  long 
time  his  breathing  simply  ceased,  with  no  evidence 
of  pain.  We  waited  awhile,  and  then  the  young 
soldier  who  had  been  detailed  to  nurse  him  rose, 
crossed  the  room,  and,  stooping  over,  kissed  me 
on  my  forehead,  and  went  out  to  his  duty  in  the 
ranks. 

Two  weeks  later  I  was  in  my  room,  resting  after  a 
hard  day,  when  a  haggard  officer,  covered  with  mud 
and  dust,  entered.  It  was  my  husband. 

"  My  men  are  all  dead,"  he  said,  with  anguish, 


192          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

and,  falling  across  the  bed,  he  gave  vent  to  the  pas- 
sionate grief  of  his  heart. 

Thousands  of  Confederate  soldiers  were  killed, 
thousands  wounded. 

Richmond  was  saved! 

General  McClellan  and  General  Lee  both  real- 
ized that  their  men  needed  rest.  My  husband  was 
allowed  a  few  days'  respite  from  duty.  Almost  with- 
out pause  he  had  fought  the  battles  of  Williams- 
burg,  Seven  Pines,  Mechanicsville,  Gaines's  Mill, 
and  Frazier's  Farm.  He  had  won  his  promotion 
early,  but  he  had  lost  the  loved  commander  who 
appreciated  him,  had  seen  old  schoolmates  and 
friends  fall  by  his  side,  —  the  dear  fellow,  George 
Loyal  Gordon,  who  had  been  his  best  man  at 
our  wedding,  —  old  college  comrades,  valued  old 
neighbors. 

Opposed  to  him  in  battle,  then  and  after,  were 
men  who  in  after  years  avowed  themselves  his  warm 
friends,  —  General  Hancock,  General  Slocum,  Gen- 
eral Butterfield,  General  Sickles,  General  Fitz-John 
Porter,  General  McClellan,  and  General  Grant. 
They  had  fought  loyally  under  opposing  banners, 
and  from  time  to  time,  as  the  war  went  on,  one  and 
another  had  been  defeated  ;  but  over  all,  and  through 
all,  their  allegiance  had  been  given  to  a  banner  that 
has  never  surrendered,  —  the  standard  of  the  uni- 
versal brotherhood  of  all  true  men. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE    WINTER    OF     l86l 

THE  privilege  of  nursing  in  the  hospital  had 
been  bought  at  a  dear  price,  for  it  was 
decided  positively  that  I  was  to  surrender, 
for  the  present,  my  dream  of  following  the  army. 
I  was  remanded  to  the  mountains,  and  at  Charlottes- 
ville  I  had  news  of  the  events  that  rapidly  followed 
the  Seven  Days'  Battles  around  Richmond. 

McClellan  had  been  relieved  of  his  command, 
and  the  defenceless  women  and  children  of  Northern 
Virginia  were  handed  over  to  the  tender  mercies 
of  General  Pope.  McClellan  wrote,  August  8  :  "  I 
will  strike  square  in  the  teeth  of  all  the  infamous 
orders  of  Mr.  John  Pope,  and  forbid  all  pillaging 
and  stealing,  and  take  the  highest  Christian  ground 
for  the  conduct  of  the  war.  I  will  not  permit  this 
army  to  degenerate  into  a  mob  of  thieves,  nor  will  I 
return  these  men  of  mine  to  their  families  as  a  set 
of  wicked  and  demoralized  robbers." 

General  Pope  had  announced  his  purpose  (which 
he  carried  out)  to  subsist  his  army  on  our  country, 
and  to  hang  or  shoot  any  non-combating  citizens 
who  might  fall  into  his  hands,  in  retaliation  for  the 
killing  of  his  soldiers.  This  was  one  of  "  the  in- 
famous orders  of  Mr.  John  Pope  "  to  which  General 
o  193 


194         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

McClellan  alluded ;  but  infamy  to  some  eyes  is 
fame  to  others.  Pope  superseded  McClellan  ;  but 
he  was  himself  superseded  after  his  defeat  at  the 
hands  of  Lee,  and  McClellan  reinstated. 

My  husband's  brigade  followed  General  Lee, 
fought  the  battle  of  Manassas,  where  he  captured 
and  paroled  the  hospital  corps,  went  with  him 
throughout  the  campaign,  into  Maryland  and  back, 
fought  the  battle  of  South  Mountain  and  the  bloody 
battle  of  Antietam  (or  Sharpsburg). 

The  histories  of  these  battles  have  been  given 
again  and  again  by  the  military  commanders  who 
conducted  them.  At  the  close  of  the  campaign 
General  Lee  reported  that  his  men  were  in  the 
finest  possible  condition  —  only  there  were  too  few 
of  them.  As  the  Federal  armies  were  depleted,  they 
could  be  reenforced  by  foreigners.  As  our  men  were 
lost,  we  had  no  fresh  troops  to  take  their  places. 

My  husband  commanded  Anderson's  division  at 
Antietam,  General  Anderson  having  been  wounded. 
This  battle  is  quoted,  along  with  the  battle  of  Seven 
Pines,  as  one  of  the  most  hotly  contested  of  the  war. 
Sorely  pressed  at  one  time,  General  Pryor  despatched 
an  orderly  to  General  Longstreet  with  a  request  for 
artillery.  The  latter  tore  the  margin  from  a  news- 
paper and  wrote :  "  I  am  sending  you  the  guns, 
dear  General.  This  is  a  hard  fight  and  we  had  better 
all  die  than  lose  it."  At  one  time  during  the  battle 
the  combatants  agreed  upon  a  brief  cessation,  that 
the  dead  and  wounded  of  both  sides  might  be  re- 
moved. While  General  Pryor  waited,  a  Federal 
officer  approached  him. 


"A  Florida  Patriot"  195 

"  General/'  said  he,  "  I  have  just  detected  one  of 
my  men  in  robbing  the  body  of  one  of  your  soldiers. 
I  have  taken  his  booty  from  him,  and  now  consign 
it  to  you." 

Without  examining  the  small  bundle,  —  tied  in  a 
handkerchief,  —  my  husband  ordered  it  to  be  properly 
enclosed  and  sent  to  me.  The  handkerchief  con- 
tained a  gold  watch,  a  pair  of  gold  sleeve-links,  a  few 
pieces  of  silver,  and  a  strip  of  paper  on  which  was 
written,  "  Strike  till  the  last  armed  foe  expires,"  and 
signed  "  A  Florida  patriot."  There  seemed  to  be 
no  clew  by  which  I  might  hope  to  find  an  inheritor 
for  these  treasures.  I  could  only  take  care  of  them. 

I  brought  them  forth  one  day  to  interest  an  aged 
relative,  whose  chair  was  placed  in  a  sunny  window. 
"  I  think,  my  dear,"  she  said, "  there  are  pin-scratched 
letters  on  the  inside  of  these  sleeve-buttons."  Sure 
enough,  there  were  three  initials,  rudely  made,  but 
perfectly  plain. 

Long  afterward  I  met  a  Confederate  officer  from 
Florida  who  had  fought  at  Antietam. 

"  Did  you  know  any  one  from  your  state,  Captain, 
who  was  killed  at  Sharpsburg  ?  " 

"  Alas  !  yes,"  he  replied,  and  mentioned  a  name 
corresponding  exactly  with  the  scratched  initials. 

The  parcel,  with  a  letter  from  me,  was  sent  to  an 
address  he  gave  me,  and  in  due  time  I  received  a 
most  touching  letter  of  thanks  from  the  mother  of 
the  dead  soldier. 

General  Lee  went  into  winter  quarters  at  Cul- 
peper,  and  thither  I  repaired  to  visit  a  kind  and 
hospitable  family,  who  were  good  enough  to  invite 


196         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

me.  In  their  home  I  spent  two  weeks.  I  had  not 
imagined  there  were  so  ma\iy  soldiers  in  the  world 
as  I  saw  then.  "  You  cannot  take  a  step  anywhere," 
said  a  lady,  "  without  treading  on  a  soldier  !  "  They 
were  in  the  finest  spirits,  notwithstanding  their  long 
marches  and  short  rations.  Thousands  on  thousands 
of  Federal  troops  were  in  Virginia.  The  highways 
of  our  chief  rivers  were  closed,  our  railroads 
menaced.  Everything  we  needed  was  already 
scarce  and  held  at  high  prices.  Nobody  had  com- 
forts or  luxuries ;  nobody  murmured  because  of 
such  privations. 

We  made  our  host's  drawing-room  a  camp- 
ing ground,  his  fire  our  camp-fire.  Around  it 
gathered  a  nightly  crowd  of  gay  young  soldiers. 
They  wished  no  serious  talk,  these  young  warriors  ! 
They  had  a  brief  respite  from  fatigue  and  sorrow, 
and  they  intended  to  enjoy  it.  They  sentimental- 
ized, however,  over  the  tender  and  mournful  song, 
"  Lorena,"  which  even  then  touched  a  chord  in 
every  heart,  and  which  meant  so  much  of  devotion 
and  heartbreak  two  years  later.  For  four  years  the 
daughters  of  the  South  waited  for  their  lovers,  and 
some,  alas  !  waited  forever. 

«« It  matters  little  now,  Lorena, 

The  past  is  the  eternal  past, 
Our  heads  will  soon  lie  low,  Lorena, 

Life's  tide  is  ebbing  out  so  fast ; 
But  there's  a  future —  oh  !  thank  God  — 

Of  life  this  is  so  small  a  part ; 
'Tis  dust  to  dust  beneath  the  sod, 

But  there,  up  there,  —  'tis  heart  to  heart" 


In  Winter  Quarters  197 

With  pretty  Nelly  at  the  piano,  her  blue  eyes 
raised  to  heaven,  and  Jack  Fleming  accompanying 
her  on  her  guitar,  his  dark  eyes  raised  to  Nelly,  the 
effect  was  overwhelming ;  and  lest  somebody  should 
quite  finish  us  by  singing,  "  Flee  as  a  bird  to  the 
mountain,"  we  would  hasten  to  demand  the  "  Bonnie 
Blue  Flag,"  or  "  Dixie,"  or  the  polite  invitation  to 
"Joe  Hooker"  to  "come  out  the  Wilderness,"  or, 
better  still,  a  good  story.  The  latter  call  would 
bring  many  we  had  heard  before — there  are  so  few 
good  stories  in  the  world  —  but  we  would  welcome 
each  one  with  applause,  even  if  it  were  no  better 

than  the  story  of  Captain (I  can't  remember  the 

captain's  name)  and  his  black  boy  "  Caesar."  I  can 
only  vouch  for  the  story,  which  ran  thus  :  — 

The  captain,  going  into  a  skirmish  one  day,  left 
his  tent  and  its  contents  in  the  care  of  the  boy. 
"  Mayn't  I  go  he'p  de  cook  ?  "  said  Caesar,  much 
desiring  to  place  himself  farther  in  the  rear. 

"  Stay  here,  sir,  and  protect  my  property ! " 
sternly  commanded  his  master. 

Caesar,  when  left  alone,  grew  unhappy,  and  when 
straggling  shot  fell  like  hail  around  the  tent,  he 
incontinently  fled  and  hid  in  the  bushes.  When  he 
returned,  he  found  an  angry  captain  indeed. 

"You  rascal!  Didn't  I  leave  you  here  to 
protect  my  property  ?  It  might  have  been  all 
stolen." 

"  I  knows  it,  sah,  I  knows  it !  An'  I  did  purtect 
yo'  property,  sah !  I  sholy  did !  Dem  ole  does 
ain'  wuth  nothin' !  I'se  feared  to  bresh  'em  less'n  I 
git  a  hole  in  'em;  but  dis  property,"  laying  his  hand 


198          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

proudly  on  his  breast,  "  dis  property  is  wuth  fifteen 
hundred  dollars  !  " 

Of  course  so  good  a  story  was  soon  capped  by 
another.  One  of  the  boys  who  had  been  with  my 
General  at  Williamsburg  could  tell  it.  A  shell  had 
entered  the  domain  of  pots  and  kettles  and  created 
what  Domingo  the  cook  termed  a  "  clatteration." 
He  at  once  started  for  the  rear. 

"  What's  de  matter,  Mingo  ?  "  asked  a  fellow- 
servant,  "  whar  you  gwine  wid  such  a  hurrification  ?" 

"  I  gwine  to  git  out  o'  trouble  —  dar  whar  I 
gwine.  Bar's  too  much  powder  in  dem  big  things. 
Dis  chile  ain't  gwine  bu'n  hisself !  An'  dar's  dem 
Minnie  bullets,  too,  comin'  frew  de  a'r,  singin' : 
c  Whar  —  is  —  you?  Whar  —  is  —  you?'  I  ain't 
gwine  stop  an'  tell  'em  whar  I  is  !  I'se  a  twenty- 
two-hundurd-dollar  nigger,  an'  I'se  gwine  tek  keer 
o'  what  b'longs  to  marster,  I  is." 

Of  course  we  heard  again  the  story  of  Stonewall 
Jackson's  body-servant,  who  always  knew  before 
anybody  when  a  battle  was  imminent. 

"  The  General  tells  you,  I  suppose,"  said  one  of 
the  soldiers. 

"  Lawd,  no,  sir !  De  Gin'ral  nuvver  tell  me 
nothin'  !  I  observates  de  'tention  of  de  Gin'ral  dis 
way  :  co'se  he  prays,  jest  like  we  all,  mornin'  an' 
night ;  but  when  he  gits  up  two,  three  times  in  a 
night  to  pray,  den  I  rubs  my  eye  and  gits  up  too, 
an'  packs  de  haversack,  —  ca'se  I  done  fine  out 
dere's  gwine  to  be  de  ole  boy  to  pay  right  away." 

Amusing  as  were  the  negro  stories,  there  were 
plenty  of  others,  revealing  the  peculiar  characteristics 


Stones  around  the  Camp-fire  199 

of  the  common  soldier.  The  soldier  from  rural 
districts  was  a  trial  to  his  officers  in  the  early  days 
of  the  war.  Nothing  could  make  him  hurry.  "  If 
he  came  to  a  stream,  he  would  deliberately  look 
around  for  two  fence-rails  and  put  them  across,  and 
the  time  consumed  by  a  company  in  crossing  in  this 
way  can  be  imagined.  If  his  feet  hurt  him,  he  would 
sit  down  on  the  roadside  to  tie  rags  around  them." 
He  never  could  be  made  to  understand  that  freedom 
of  speech  with  an  officer,  who  had  been  perhaps  a 
neighbor,  was  denied  him ;  nor  yet  that  he  could 
not  indulge  in  good-natured  chaff  or  criticism. 

"  Are  you  sentinel  here  ?  "  asked  an  officer,  who 
found  a  sentry  sitting  down  and  cleaning  his  gun, 
having  taken  it  entirely  to  pieces. 

"  Well,  I  am  a  sort  of  sentinel,  I  reckon." 

"  Well,  /  am  a  sort  of  officer  of  the  day." 

"  Is  that  so  ?  Just  hold  on  till  I  get  my  gun 
together,  and  I  will  give  you  a  sort  of  a  salute." 

When  a  picket  guard  at  Harper's  Ferry  was  being 
detailed  for  duty,  one  of  these  verdant  volunteers 
loudly  protested  against  that  manner  of  carrying  on 
war. 

"  What's  the  use  of  gwine  out  thar  to  keep  every- 
body off?  "  he  shouted.  "  We've  all  kem  here  to 
hev  a  fight  with  them  Yankees,  an'  ef  you  sen' 
fellers  out  thar  to  skeer  'em  off,  how  in  thunder  are 
we  gwine  to  hev  a  scrimmage  ?  " 

In  the  hardest  times  of  starvation  and  weariness, 
according  to  our  soldier  boys,  the  situation  would  be 
relieved  by  the  drollery  of  some  good-natured,  great- 

1  "  Camp-fire  and  Battle-field,"  p.  456  et  sey. 


2oo         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

hearted  countryman.  Officers  who  had  an  easy 
place,  and  musicians,  for  a  similar  reason,  were  their 
special  targets.  Rather  than  be  tormented,  musi- 
cians would  often  leave  the  line  of  march  and  go 
through  fields  to  avoid  the  running  fire.  "  Ah, 
now  !  give  us  a  toot  on  yer  old  funnel,"  or,  "  Brace 
up  thar  with  yer  blowpipe  !  " 

These  fellows  who  didn't  fight  were  all  classed 
under  the  general  term  of  "  bomb-proofs."  One  of 
these  officers  —  a  little  man  —  having  appeared  in 
an  enormous  pair  of  cavalry  boots,  ran  the  gantlet 
of  a  neighboring  brigade  and  heard  a  frank  opinion 
of  himself:  — 

"  I  say,  Mister,  better  git  out'r  them  smokestacks  ! 
We  know  you're  in  thar  'cause  we  all  kin  see  yer 
head  stickin'  out.  You  needn'  say  yer  aint  in  thar, 
—  'cause  yer  ears  is  workin'  powerful." 

The  allusion  to  the  celebrated  long-eared  animal 
was  awful  1 

If  a  "bomb-proof"  officer — a  fellow  who  had  a 
position  in  the  rear  —  should  happen  to  be  smartly 
dressed  when  cantering  along  near  a  regiment,  he 
would  be  apt  to  change  his  canter  to  a  gallop  as  the 
men  would  shout  and  whoop  :  — 

"  Oh,  my  !  Ain't  he  pooty  ?  Say,  Mister  !  whar'd 
ye  git  that  biled  shut  ?  Was  ye  ra-a-ly  born  so,  or 
was  ye  put  together  by  corntrack  ?  Sich  a  nice- 
lookin'  rooster  oughter  git  down  an'  scratch  for  a 
wurrum ! " 

Even  when  a  brigade  would  pass  at.  double-quick, 
going  into  a  battle  in  which  the  waiting  soldier 
expected  any  moment  to  take  part,  the  latter  would 
call  out :  — 


Stories  around  the  Camp-fire  201 

"  What's  your  hurry,  boys  ?  Gwine  to  ketch  a 
train  ?  " 

They  made  great  fun,  too,  of  their  own  fears, 
never  considering  them  worthy  of  being  treated  seri- 
ously, or  as  in  any  way  detrimental. 

Under  fire  at  Manassas,  a  raw  recruit  was  doing 
pretty  well,  when  a  rabbit  loped  across  the  field. 
Dropping  his  gun  as  he  was  about  to  shoot,  he 
yelled,  with  honest  pathos  :  — 

"  Go  it,  little  cotton-tail,  go  it !  I'm  jest  as 
skeered  as  you  be,  an'  ef  I  dar'd,  I'd  run  too." 

A  number  of  militia  having  given  way  under  fire, 
their  commanding  officer  called  out  to  one  of  the 
fugitives  :  — 

"What  are  you  running  away  for,  you 

coward  ?  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself." 

"  I  ain't  runnin'  away,  Gin'ral !  I'm  just  skeered  ! 
Them  fellers  over  thar  are  shootin'  bullets  as  big  as 
watermillions !  One  of  'em  went  right  peerst  my 
head  —  right  peerst;  —  an' — an'  I  wants  to  go 
home." 

"  Well,  why  didn't  you  shoot  back,  sir  ?  You  are 
crying  like  a  baby." 

"  1  knows  it,  Gin'ral  —  I  knows  it.  I  wish  I  was 
a  baby,  and  a  gal-baby,  too,  and  then  I  wouldn't  hev 
been  cornscripted." 

The  regiments  of  Georgia,  North  Carolina,  and 
Virginia  could  never  pass  each  other  without  some 
chaffing  challenge. 

"  Hello,  North  Car'lina,"  said  an  officer  to  a  lanky 
specimen  in  a  shabby  uniform. 

"  Hello,  Virginia." 


2O2          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

"  Blockade  on  turpentine  making  ?  You  all  hard 
up  ?  No  sale  for  tar  now  ?  " 

"  Well  —  yes  !  "  was  the  slow  rejoinder.  "  We  sell 
all  our  tar  to  Jeff  Davis  now." 

"  The  thunder  you  do  !  What  does  the  President 
want  with  your  tar  r" 

"  He  puts  it  on  the  heels  of  Virginians  to  make 
'em  stick  to  the  battle-field." 

The  staff  officer  rode  on. 

A  good  story  had  found  its  way  into  our  lines  from 
a  Federal  officer.  He  was  commenting  upon  the  fact 
that  all  Southern  women  were  intense  rebels  —  with 
one  exception.  He  had  been  with  others  marching 
down  a  wooded  lane  which  ended  in  a  sharp  curve. 
As  they  rounded  it,  they  suddenly  came  upon  a 
house,  before  which  was  a  woman  picking  up  chips. 
As  she  had  evidently  not  seen  them,  the  officer  tip- 
toed up  to  her,  put  his  arm  around  her  waist,  and 
kissed  her  —  and  stepped  back  to  avoid  the  box  on 
the  ear  he  knew  he  deserved.  The  woman,  however, 
straightened  herself,  looked  at  him  seriously  for  a 
moment,  and  said  slowly,  "  You'll  find  me  right 
here  every  mornin'  a-pickin'  up  chips." 

It  would  seem  that  the  telling  of  stories  of  a  mildly 
humorous  nature,  with  the  characteristic  of  dialect, 
was  a  feature  of  the  war-time,  —  the  President  of  the 
United  States  affording  a  notable  example.  When 
the  gravest  matters  were  under  consideration,  all  things 
were  held  in  abeyance  until  the  illustrative  anecdote 
was  duly  presented.  How  Mr.  Seward  chafed  under 
them  we  all  know.  The  poor  little  stories  that  went 
the  rounds  among  the  rank  and  file  at  the  camp-fires 


Benefits  of  Story-telling  203 

in  Virginia  had  their  uses.  Whatever  the  weariness, 
the  discouragement,  the  failure  of  the  wagons  to  come 
up  with  provisions,  by  such  simple  means  did  the 
brave  boys  lighten  their  own  and  each  others'  hearts. 
Whenever  they  had  cards  they  played ;  but  before 
going  into  battle  the  camp-ground  would  be  strewn 
with  them,  the  soldier  of  the  rank  and  file  always 
emptying  his  pockets  of  his  cards  !  His  Testament 
was  pocketed  in  their  stead. 

In  repeating  these  stories  around  our  blazing  log 
fire,  and  in  describing  their  marches  and  hard  times, 
the  brave  fellows  made  sport  of  all  their  discomforts 
and  of  their  shifts  to  supplement  deficiencies.  They 
told  with  merriment  of  the  times  they  had  proudly 
drawn  over  their  bruised  feet  boots  found  on  the 
march,  and  had  suffered  such  agony  from  the  swell- 
ing of  the  compressed  members  that  they  were  fain 
to  implore  a  comrade  to  cut  off  the  instrument  of 
torture ;  of  the  time  Mr.  Giddings  and  his  pretty 
daughters  entertained  them  in  Maryland,  and  of  their 
dreadful  embarrassment  at  finding  they  had  raven- 
ously swept  the  table  of  every  biscuit,  every  bit  of 
ham,  every  raw  tomato  —  and  had  wanted,  oh,  so 
much  more  !  And  how  some  of  them  had  been  cap- 
tured and  soon  released  ;  but  while  prisoners  and  wait- 
ing for  a  train,  how  a  Federal  officer  had  talked  most 
kindly  to  them,  inquiring  for  old  West  Point  com- 
rades of  his  who  were  on  our  side ;  and  how  they  on 
their  part  had  asked  after  the  welfare  of  Captain  John 
Lea  of  Petersburg,  who  had  been  captured  at  Wil- 
liamsburg,  —  to  be  told  by  this  Federal  officer  that 
Captain  Lea  had  been  dreadfully  wounded,  and  while 


204         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

in  the  hospital  had  been  nursed  by  a  young  lady  with 
whom  he  fell  in  love,  and  that  the  officer  had  been 
present  at  their  marriage  in  Williamsburg,  and  through 
his  intercession  and  that  of  other  old  West  Point  com- 
rades Captain  Lea  had  been  released.  When  the 
time  came  for  parting  with  the  courteous  officer  our 
boys  had  respectfully  requested  his  name.  "  My  name 
is  Custer,"  he  said.  "  I  do  not  belong  to  any  regi- 
ment, but  am  on  the  staff  of  General  McClellan." 
He  was  none  other  than  the  famous  George  A. 
Custer  of  the  United  States  cavalry,  destined  to 
win  for  himself  immortal  renown,  and  to  meet  gal- 
lantly an  early  death  in  the  fight  with  the  Indians 
on  the  Little  Big  Horn  River. 

Many  of  these  soldier  boys — "boys"  now  no 
longer,  but  "  veterans  " — were  from  Petersburg,  and 
had  stood  in  line  on  the  day  when  Alice  and  Tabb 
and  Marian  and  Molly  and  all  the  other  girls  had 
waited  with  me  to  see  them  off.  It  was  delightful  to 
meet  them  and  to  hear  news  of  the  others.  Where 
was  Will  Johnson  ?  Where  was  Berry  Stainback  ? 
Will  had  been  captured  "  for  no  reason  whatever 
except  that  he  and  Berry  had  but  one  blanket  be- 
tween them,  and  Will  had  to  get  himself  captured 
when  he  found  Berry  had  been,  in  order  to  continue 
to  share  the  blanket,  which  was  in  Berry's  posses- 
sion," a  story  which  Will's  friends  could  safely  invent 
for  their  amusement,  as  his  known  courage  was  beyond 
all  doubt. 

General  "  Jeb  "  Stuart  was  a  great  hero  with  these 
soldier  boys,  dashing  as  he  did  all  over  the  country 
with  his  eight  thousand  mounted  men.  He  was  our 


"Jeb"  Stuart  vs.  King  Arthur  205 

plumed  knight  —  with  his  gold  star  and  long  feather. 
They  never  wearied  of  stories  of  his  promptness,  his 
celerity,  his  meteorlike  dashes. 

"  They'll  never   catch  him  ! "  said    one  proudly. 
"  They'll  always  reach  the  place  where  he  recently 


was." 


"  He  reminds  me  of  the  knights  of  the  olden 
time,"  said  a  young  lady. 

"  The  mediaeval  knight,  my  dear  young  lady," 
said  General  Johnson,  "  would  be  of  little  use  in 
this  war.  He  would  have  stood  no  chance  with  one 
of  Stuart's  men." 

"  Fancy  him,"  said  another,  "  with  his  two  hun- 
dred weight  of  iron  on  him,  and  as  much  on  his  big 
cart-horse.  Imagine  him,  armed  with  a  maul  or  a 
lance,  a  battle-axe,  and  six-foot  pole,  going  into  a 
fight  at  Manassas  or  Antietam." 

"  He  would  never  get  there,"  said  the  General. 
"  A  light  cavalryman  of  the  First  Virginia  would 
have  ridden  around  King  Arthur  or  Sir  Launcelot 
half  a  dozen  times  while  the  knight  was  bracing 
himself  up  for  action  ;  and  the  Chicopee  sabre  would 
have  searched  out  the  joints  under  his  chin,  or  his 
arm,  or  his  sword-belt,  and  would  have  shucked  him 
like  an  oyster  before  he  could  get  his  lance  in  rest." 

And  Jackson  was  another  of  their  idols.  Stories 
of  his  strategy,  his  courage,  his  faith  in  God,  his  suc- 
cesses, filled  many  an  hour  around  the  camp-fire  in 
the  hospitable  Culpeper  mansion. 

But  the  chief  idol  of  their  hearts  —  of  all  our 
hearts  —  was  our  beloved  commander,  our  Bayard 
sans  feur  et  sans  reproche,  General  Lee.  The  hand 


206         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

instinctively  sought  the  cap  at  the  mention  of  his 
name.  Indignant  comments  were  made  upon  the 
newspaper  criticisms  of  his  early  misfortunes  in  the 
western  part  of  Virginia  in  the  autumn  of  1861,  and 
one  occasion  was  remembered  when,  his  own  attention 
having  been  directed  to  a  fierce  newspaper  attack,  as 
unjust  in  its  conclusions  as  it  was  untrue  in  its  state- 
ments, he  was  asked  why  he  silently  suffered  such 
unwarranted  aspersions ;  and  he  had  calmly  replied 
that,  while  it  was  very  hard  to  bear,  it  was  perhaps 
quite  natural  that  such  hasty  conclusions  should  be 
announced,  and  that  it  was  better  not  to  attempt  a 
justification  or  defence,  but  to  go  steadily  on  in  the 
discharge  of  duty  to  the  best  of  our  ability,  leaving 
all  else  to  the  calmer  judgment  of  the  future  and  to 
a  kind  Providence. 

Happy  was  the  private  soldier  who  had  seen  Gen- 
eral Lee,  thrice  happy  the  one  who  had  spoken  to  him. 
Of  the  latter,  a  plain  countryman,  having  listened  to 
the  personal  incidents  of  his  fellows,  as  they  related 
various  occasions  when  they  had  been  noticed  by 
General  Lee,  was  fired  by  a  desire  to  emulate  them, 
and  confided  that  he,  too,  had  once  enjoyed  a  very 
interesting  and  gratifying  interview  with  General 
Lee.  Importuned  to  tell  it,  the  soldier  modestly 
hesitated,  but  urged  by  an  evident  incredulity  on 
the  part  of  his  hearers,  he  took  heart  of  grace  and 
related  as  follows  :  — 

"  I  was  jest  out  of  the  horspittle  an'  was  natchelly 
strollin'  round  when  the  scrimmage  was  goin'  on, 
and  I  saw  Gen'ral  Lee  on  a  little  rise  not  fur  off. 
I  santered  closer  an'  closer  to  him,  and  when  I  saw 


Our  Bayard,  General  Lee  207 

him  look  at  me  I  says, c  Pretty  warm  work  over  thar, 
Gen'ral.'  He  give  me  a  keen  look,  an'  says  he, 
quiet-like :  *  Where  do  you  belong  ?  Where's  your 
regiment?'  An'  I  says,  ( I'm  lookin'  for  my  regi- 
ment now  —  Twelfth  Virginia.'  c  I  can  help  you,' 
says  he  ;  c  there  is  your  regiment  just  going  into  the 
fight.  Hurry  up  an'  join  it.'  An'  I  run  off  proud 
as  a  pigeon." 

"  Didn't  you  think  you  might  get  shot  ?  "  asked 
his  comrade. 

"  I  suttenly  did !  I  always  thinks  that.  But 
then,  thinks  I,  Gen'ral  Lee  will  be  mighty  sorry 
'cause  he  knowed  he  sent  me  into  danger  when  I 
was  feelin'  mighty  weak  an'  poly." 

The  incidents  were  many  which  the  officers  and 
soldiers  could  remember,  illustrating  the  dear  com- 
mander's peculiar  traits.  His  aide,  Colonel  Taylor, 
has  written  me  of  one  most  touching  incident :  — 

"  Tidings  reached  General  Lee,  soon  after  his 
return  to  Virginia,  of  the  serious  illness  of  one  of  his 
daughters  —  the  darling  of  his  flock.  For  several 
days  apprehensions  were  entertained  that  the  next 
intelligence  would  be  of  her  death.  One  morning 
the  mail  was  received,  and  the  private  letters  were 
distributed  as  was  the  custom ;  but  no  one  knew 
whether  any  home  news  had  been  received  by  the 
General.  At  the  usual  hour  he  summoned  me  to 
his  presence,  to  know  if  there  were  any  matters  of 
army  routine  upon  which  his  judgment  and  action 
were  desired.  The  papers  containing  a  few  such 
cases  were  presented  to  him  ;  he  reviewed,  and  gave 
his  orders  in  regard  to  them.  I  then  left  him,  but 


208          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

for  some  cause  returned  in  a  few  moments,  and  with 
my  accustomed  freedom  entered  his  tent  without 
announcement  or  ceremony,  when  I  was  startled  and 
shocked  to  see  him  overcome  with  grief,  an  open 
letter  in  his  hand.  That  letter  contained  the  sad 
intelligence  of  his  daughter's  death. 

"  Scarcely  less  to  be  admired  than  his  sublime 
devotion  to  duty,"  continued  Colonel  Taylor,  "  was 
his  remarkable  self-control.  General  Lee  was 
naturally  of  a  positive  temperament,  and  of  strong 
passions ;  and  it  is  a  mistake  to  suppose  him  other- 
wise ;  but  he  held  these  in  complete  subjection  to 
his  will  and  conscience.  He  was  not  one  of  those 
invariably  amiable  men,  whose  temper  is  never 
ruffled ;  but  when  we  consider  the  immense  burden 
which  rested  upon  him,  and  the  numberless  causes 
for  annoyance  with  which  he  had  to  contend,  the 
occasional  cropping  out  of  temper  which  we,  who 
were  constantly  near  him,  witnessed,  only  showed 
how  great  was  his  habitual  self-command. 

"  He  had  a  great  dislike  to  reviewing  army  com- 
munications ;  this  was  so  thoroughly  appreciated  by 
me  that  I  would  never  present  a  paper  for  his  action 
unless  it  was  of  decided  importance,  and  of  a  nature 
to  demand  his  judgment  and  decision.  On  one 
occasion,  when  an  audience  had  not  been  asked  of 
him  for  several  days,  it  became  necessary  to  have 
one.  The  few  papers  requiring  his  action  were  sub- 
mitted. He  was  not  in  a  very  pleasant  mood; 
something  irritated  him,  and  he  manifested  his  ill 
humor  by  a  little  nervous  twist  or  jerk  of  the  neck 
and  head,  peculiar  to  himself,  accompanied  by  some 


General  Lee  and  his  Aide  209 

harshness  of  manner.  This  was  perceived  by  me, 
and  I  hastily  concluded  that  my  efforts  to  save  him 
annoyance  were  not  appreciated.  In  disposing  of 
some  case  of  a  vexatious  character,  matters  reached 
a  climax ;  he  became  really  worried,  and,  forgetting 
what  was  due  to  my  superior,  I  petulantly  threw  the 
paper  down  at  my  side  and  gave  evident  signs  of 
anger.  Then,  in  a  perfectly  calm  and  measured 
tone  of  voice,  he  said,  '  Colonel  Taylor,  when  I  lose 
my  temper,  don't  you  let  it  make  you  angry/ 

"  Was  there  ever  a  more  gentle  and  considerate, 
and  yet  so  positive,  reproof?  How  magnanimous 
in  the  great  soldier,  and  yet  how  crushing  to  the 
subordinate !  The  rash  and  disrespectful  conduct 
of  the  latter  would  have  justified,  if  it  did  not 
demand,  summary  treatment  at  the  hands  of  the 
former.  Instead  of  this,  the  first  man  of  his  day 
and  generation,  great  and  glorious  in  his  humility, 
condescended  to  occupy  the  same  plane  with  his 
youthful  subaltern,  and  to  reason  with  him  as  an 
equal,  frankly  acknowledging  his  own  imperfections, 
but  kindly  reminding  the  inferior  at  the  same  time 
of  his  duty  and  his  position."  Great  indeed  must 
be  the  man  whom  we  can  love  all  the  better  for  his 
human  weakness. 


CHAPTER  XV 

GUARDING    THE     BLACKWATER 

GENERAL  PRYOR'S  brigade  had  been  com- 
posed of  regiments  from  Alabama,  Florida, 
Mississippi,  North  Carolina,  and  Virginia. 
Congress  having  recommended  that  regiments  should 
be  enlisted  under  officers  from  their  own  states,  —  in 
order  to  remedy,  if  possible,  the  disinclination  to  reen- 
list  for  the  war,  —  there  was  a  general  upheaval  and 
change  throughout  the  entire  army  during  the  autumn 
of  1862.  On  the  loth  of  November  General  Pryor 
was  ordered  to  report  for  duty  to  Major-General 
G.  W.  Smith,  commanding  at  Richmond,  Virginia,  the 
Second,  Fifth,  and  Eighth  Florida  Regiments  of  his 
brigade  being  assigned  to  a  Florida  brigadier,  the 
Fourteenth  Alabama  and  the  Fifth  North  Carolina 
to  officers  from  their  respective  states. 

On  November  2  General  Longstreet  had  written 
to  General  Pryor:  "  I  understand  that  General  Perry 
will  have  the  Florida  regiments.  Please  make  some 
suggestion  as  to  what  arrangement  we  may  be  able 
to  make  for  you." 

Accordingly  my  husband  consulted  General  Lee, 
and  received  the  following  letter  from  him,  dated 
November  25,  1862:  — 


210 


Military  Correspondence  211 

u  GENERAL  :  Your  letter  of  the  23d  inst.  has  just  been 
received.  I  regret  my  inability  to  detach  from  this  army 
the  two  regiments  to  operate  on  the  Blackwater.  As  far 
as  I  am  able  to  judge,  troops  are  more  wanted  here  than 
there,  and  it  might  be  better  to  bring  the  troops  which  it 
is  contemplated  to  unite  with  those  in  question  to  this 
army.  I  regretted  at  the  time  the  breaking  up  of  your 
former  brigade,  but  you  are  aware  that  the  circumstances 
which  produced  it  were  beyond  my  control.  I  hope  it  will 
not  be  long  before  you  will  be  again  in  the  field,  that  the 
country  may  derive  the  benefit  of  your  zeal  and  activity." 

On  November  29,  General  Pry  or  was  ordered  by 
General  G.  W.  Smith  to  report  to  Major-General 
French,  and  was  personally  introduced  to  the  latter 
by  the  following  letter  :  — 

"RICHMOND,  November  29,  1862. 

"  MY  DEAR  GENERAL  :  This  will  be  handed  you  by 
my  friend,  Brigadier-General  Pryor.  General  Pryor's  brig- 
ade in  General  Lee's  army  was  recently  broken  up  in 
rearranging  the  brigades  by  states.  It  is  intended  by  the 
government  that  he  shall  have  a  Virginia  brigade  as  soon  as 
one  can  be  formed  for  him.  In  the  meanwhile,  it  is  Gen- 
eral Lee's  desire  that  General  Pryor  shall  serve  upon  the 
Blackwater  —  his  own  section  of  the  country  —  and  he 
directs  that  the  two  regiments  of  cavalry  on  the  Blackwater 
be  placed  under  his  command,  etc.  .  .  . 

"  General  Pryor  has  already  won  for  himself  the  reputa- 
tion of  being  one  of  the  best,  most  daring,  and  energetic 
officers  in  the  army,  highly  distinguished  in  civil  life,  and 
one  of  the  most  influential  men  in  the  state,  especially  in 
his  own  section.  He  will  cooperate  with  you  thoroughly, 
and  I  am  sure  will  render  good  service  to  the  cause  and  be 
of  great  assistance  to  yourself. 


212          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

u  I  am  satisfied,  from  what  General  Lee  writes  me,  that  at 
present  we  can  have  no  troops  from  his  army.  The  im- 
pression is,  that  a  great  battle  is  impending  in  the  vicinity 
of  Fredericksburg.  We  must  keep  our  house  in  order,  and 
make  the  most  of  the  means  we  have  and  can  procure  from 
other  sources  than  General  Lee's  army. 
u  Very  truly  yours, 

"  G.  W.  SMITH,  Major-General." 

A  rule  enforced  for  the  common  good  often  falls 
heavily  upon  individuals.  General  Pryor  grieved  to 
lose  his  men,  and  they  united  in  many  petitions  to 
be  allowed  to  remain  with  him.  He  undertook  the 
protection  of  the  Blackwater  region  with  an  inade- 
quate force,  in  the  certain  expectation  that  reenforce- 
ments  would  be  sent  to  him. 

The  enemy  destined  to  conquer  us  at  last  —  the 
"ravenous,  hunger-starved  wolf"  —  already  men- 
aced us.  General  Longstreet  had  learned  that  corn 
and  bacon  were  stored  in  the  northeastern  counties 
of  North  Carolina,  and  he  had  sent  two  companies 
of  cavalry  on  a  foraging  expedition,  to  the  region 
around  Suffolk. 

"  The  Confederate  lines,"  says  a  historian,  "  ex- 
tended only  to  the  Blackwater  River  on  the  east, 
where  a  body  of  Confederate  troops  was  stationed  to 
keep  the  enemy  in  check."  That  body  was  com- 
manded by  General  Pryor,  now  in  front  of  a  large 
Federal  force,  to  keep  it  in  check  while  the  wagon- 
trains  sent  off  corn  and  bacon  for  Lee's  army.  This 
was  accomplished  by  sleepless  vigilance  on  the  part 
of  the  Confederate  General.  The  Federal  forces 
made  frequent  sallies  from  Suffolk,  but  were  always 


Forward  to  the  Blackwater  213 

driven  back  with  heavy  loss.  It  is  amusing  to  read 
of  the  calmness  with  which  his  commanding  officers 
ordered  him  to  accomplish  great  things  with  his 
small  force. 

"  I  cannot,"  says  General  Colston,  "  forward  your 
requisition  for  two  regiments  of  infantry  and  one  of 
cavalry :  it  is  almost  useless  to  make  such  requisi- 
tions, for  they  remain  unanswered.  You  must  use 
every  possible  means  to  deceive  the  enemy  as  to 
your  strength,  and  you  must  hold  the  line  of  the 
Blackwater  to  the  last  extremity." 

General  French  writes  :  "If  I  had  any  way  to 
increase  your  forces,  I  should  do  so,  but  I  have  to 
bow  to  higher  authority  and  the  necessities  of  the 
service.  But  you  must  annoy  the  villains  all  you 
can,  and  make  them  uncomfortable.  Give  them  no 
rest.  Ambush  them  at  every  turn." 

General  Pryor  did  not  dream  I  would  come  to  his 
camp  at  Blackwater.  He  supposed  I  would  find 
quarters  among  my  friends  at  home,  but  I  had  now 
no  home.  Our  venerable  father  had  sent  his  family 
to  the  interior  after  the  battles  around  Richmond  ; 
had  given  up  his  church  in  Petersburg,  and,  com- 
mending the  women,  old  men,  and  children  to  the 
care  of  a  successor,  had  entered  the  army  as  chaplain, 
"where,"  as  he  said,  "I  can  follow  my  own  church 
members  and  comfort  them  in  sickness,  if  I  can  do 


no  more." 


As  soon  as  the  position  of  our  brigade  was  made 
known  to  me,  I  drew  forth  the  box  containing  the 
camp  outfit,  packed  a  trunk  or  two,  and  took  the 
cars  for  the  Blackwater.  The  terminus  of  the  rail- 


214         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

road  was  only  a  few  miles  from  our  camp.  The 
Confederate  train  could  go  no  farther  because  of  the 
enemy.  The  day's  journey  was  long,  for  the  pas- 
senger car  attached  to  the  transportation  train  was 
dependent  upon  the  movements  of  the  latter.  The 
few  passengers  who  had  set  forth  with  me  in  the 
morning  had  left  at  various  wayside  stations,  and 
I  was  now  alone.  I  had  no  idea  where  we  should 
sleep  that  night.  I  thought  I  would  manage  it 
somehow  —  somewhere. 

We  arrived  at  twilight  at  the  end  of  our  journey. 
When  I  left  the  car  my  little  boys  gathered  around 
me.  There  was  a  small  wooden  building  near,  which 
served  for  waiting-room  and  post-office.  The  only 
dwelling  in  sight  was  another  small  house,  surrounded 
by  a  few  bare  trees.  My  first  impression  was  that  I 
had  never  before  seen  such  an  expanse  of  gray  sky. 
The  face  of  the  earth  was  a  dead,  bare  level,  as  far 
as  the  eye  could  reach;  and  much,  very  much  of 
it  lay  under  water.  I  was  in  the  region  of  swamps, 
stretching  on  and  on  until  they  culminated  in  the 
one  great  "Dismal  Swamp"  of  the  country.  No 
sounds  were  to  be  heard,  no  hum  of  industry  or 
lowing  of  cattle,  but  a  mighty  concert  rose  from 
thousands,  nay,  millions,  of  frogs. 

"  Now,"  thought  I,  "  here  is  really  a  fine  oppor- 
tunity to  be  'jolly'!  Mark  Tapley's  swamps 
couldn't  surpass  these."  But  all  the  railroad  folk  were 
departing,  and  the  postmaster  was  preparing  to  lock 
his  door  and  leave  also.  I  liked  the  looks  of  the 
little  man,  and  ventured :  — 

"  Can  you  tell  me,  sir,  where  I  can  get  lodging 


Charity  —  her  Name  and  Nature          215 

to-night  ?  I  am  the  General's  wife  —  Mrs.  Pry  or  — 
and  to-morrow  he  will  take  care  of  me.  I  know  he 
has  no  place  for  us  in  camp." 

The  little  man  considered,  and  looked  us  over  — 
a  lady,  three  little  boys,  trunks,  and  a  box. 

"  I  can  take  thee  in  myself,"  he  said.  "  I  am  just 
going  home." 

"Oh,  thank  you,  thank  you.  I  shall  need  only 
the  smallest  trunk  to-night." 

"  I'm  afraid  I  can  hardly  make  thee  comfortable, 
as  I  live  alone,  but  thee  is  welcome." 

"  Thee  "  !  Oh,  joy  !  I  thought.  This  is  a  blessed 
little  Quaker !  We'll  not  part  again  !  Here  I  rest. 
We  soon  reached  his  door,  and  he  called  out  for 
«  Charity ! " 

The  call  was  answered  in  person  by  a  black  girl  in 
a  short  linsey-woolsey  frock  which  revealed  her  ankles 
and  bare  feet,  her  hair  tied  in  innumerable  little  tails, 
sticking  all  over  her  head  like  a  porcupine's  quills. 
She  was  the  most  alert  little  creature  I  ever  saw, 
nimble-footed  and  quick.  "  Charity,"  said  my  host, 
"  have  a  good  fire  made  upstairs  in  the  front  room 
at  once.  Thee  is  welcome,"  he  repeated,  turning  to 
me,  and  I  followed  the  sable  maiden  up  the  stair. 

"And  so  your  name  is  Charity  ? " 

"  Charity's  meh  name  an'  Charity's  meh  naycher," 
she  informed  me.  She  soon  brought  in  Dick  with  an 
armful  of  wood,  and  a  fine,  welcome  fire  cheered  us. 

"  You  needn'  be  lookin'  at  de  baid,"  said  Charity. 
"  I'll  soon  sheet  it.  He's  got  sto's  o'  quilts,  but  I 
dunno  as  he'll  s'render  'em." 

It  appeared  that  he  would.     He  brought  them,  an 


2i6          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

armful,  himself,  and  the  bright  patchwork  on  our  two 
beds  looked  very  inviting. 

Charity  leaned  against  the  mantel,  regarding  me 
with  leisurely  scrutiny,  her  bare  feet  crossed  one  over 
the  other.  I  felt  it  to  be  the  part  of  prudence  to 
placate  her. 

"We'll  unlock  the  trunk,"  I  said,  — Dick  had 
already  fetched  it, — "  and  I'll  find  a  pretty  ribbon 
for  you." 

"  I  knowed,"  said  the  girl,  "you  was  some  punkins 
soon's  I  sot  eyes  on  you."  Before  I  was  summoned 
to  the  supper  of  biscuit,  fried  bacon,  and  coffee  with- 
out cream,  Charity  had  enlightened  me  about  her 
employer;  she  made  haste  to  tell  me  he  was  not 
her  master.  "  I'se  free,  I  is !  Mo'n  dat,  he's  a 
Quaker,  an*  ef  you  ever  seen  Quakers,  you  knows 
dey  don'  like  no  slaves  'roun'.  Yas'm,  I'se  free  — 
an'  Dick,  he's  a  po'-white  boy.  Me'n  him  does 
all  de  wuk  cep'n  in  hawg-killin'  time,  an'  den  de 
fokes  comes  fum  de  quarters  to  he'p." 

"  Are  you  lonesome  ?  "  I  asked,  making  conver- 
sation. 

"  Dat  I  is.  You  see  he  los'  his  wife  two  mont' 
ago.  Dese  here  quilts  is  hern.  She  made  'em." 

"  Dear  me,"  I  said,  "  I'm  so  sorry  !  " 

But  Charity  had  broken  down  and  was  sobbing 
with  her  head  against  the  mantel. 

"  Yas'm  !  I  cert'nly  is  lonesum  !  She  jes  up  an' 
die,  an',  an'  de  po'  little  baby  daid  too." 

As  I  lay  in  bed  I  thought  of  the  dear  dead 
woman.  I  resolved  to  be  nothing  but  a  comfort 
to  Chanty  and  that  little  Quaker.  I  made  plans  for 


Hospitality  on  the  Blackwater  217 

the  happiness  of  both.  With  my  heart  full  of  sym- 
pathy, full  of  gratitude,  full  of  hope,  I  slept  sweetly 
and  long. 

In  the  morning  a  message  sent  from  the  post-office 
through  an  inquirer  from  the  camp  brought  me  my 
General ;  brought,  too,  an  invitation  from  my  host  to 
make  this  house  his  headquarters,  and  during  the  day 
he  moved  over  bag  and  baggage.  A  cook  was  detailed 
from  the  camp,  we  were  to  furnish  our  own  table ; 
and  our  kind  host  looked  so  deeply  wounded  when 
we  offered  rent  for  our  lodgings,  that  no  more 
was  said  on  that  subject.  I  had  brought  nothing 
with  me  except  the  plain  contents  of  my  camp  chest. 
The  thick  white  china  of  the  table  was  unattractive, 
and  I  consulted  Charity  about  the  possibility  of  buy- 
ing something  better.  Our  only  market-town,  Suf- 
folk, was  in  the  hands  of  the  enemy. 

"  He's  got  painted  cups  an'  saucers,  but  I  dunno's 
he'll  s'render  'em,"  said  Charity. 

"  Suppose  you  ask  him  !  " 

"  I  dun  try  'im  once.  I  ax  'im  dat  time  when  his 
mother-in-law  cum  to  see  'im  —  an'  he  nuvver  say 
nuthin  !  Den  I  let  'im  rip  !  " 

But  after  a  few  days  "  he  "  threw  in  my  lap  a 
bunch  of  keys,  saying  simply,  "  Everything  in  the 
house  and  on  the  plantation  belongs  to  thee." 
Some  of  them  were  enormous,  like  the  key  of  the 
Bastile,  and  all  were  rusted.  I  selected  a  small  one, 
returning  the  rest,  and  in  Charity's  presence  un- 
locked the  old  mahogany  sideboard  and  counted  to 
her  the  cups,  saucers,  and  plates,  gilt-edged,  and 
decorated  with  a  rosebud  here  and  there. 


2i 8         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

"  Good  Gawd  !  "  said  Charity.  "  I  nuvver  thought 
he'd  s'render  the  chany  cups  !  " 

"  Not  one  is  to  be  broken,"  I  said,  sternly.  "  If 
you  break  one,  tell  me  at  once  and  bring  me  the 
pieces,  so  I  can  send  to  Richmond  and  replace  it." 

I  saw  but  little  of  my  kind  host.  He  lived  at 
the  post-office,  remaining  late  every  night  to  open 
the  mail  and  have  it  ready  for  an  early  morning  de- 
livery to  the  camp,  and  returning  home  at  twelve 
o'clock  to  sleep.  Every  night  thereafter  he  found  a 
bright  fire,  a  clean-swept  hearth,  and  on  plates  be- 
fore the  fire,  biscuits,  sausage  or  broiled  ham,  and 
a  little  pot  of  coffee.  A  table  —  with  a  lamp  and 
the  latest  papers  —  was  drawn  up  beside  his  arm- 
chair. 

A  few  months  after  I  left  his  house  for  Petersburg 
I  received  the  following  letter  from  him  :  — 

"  RESPECTED  FRIEND  :  1  have  now  married.  I  couldn't 
stand  it. 

"  Thy  friend, 

« I.  P." 

Since  then  I  have  always  counselled,  as  cure  for 
an  incorrigible  bachelor,  simply  to  take  care  of  him 
beautifully  for  three  months  and  then  —  leave  him  ! 

But  to  return  :  Charity's  example  was  contagious. 
<c  I  cert'nly  was  lonesum  "  on  the  Blackwater.  The 
General  and  his  staff  were  forever  in  the  saddle. 
When  he  returned  after  his  skirmishes  and  exploring 
expeditions,  he  was  too  tired  to  amuse  me.  I  busied 
myself  teaching  the  little  boys  and  dispensing  the 
provisions  our  men  brought  me.  Bacon  and  biscuit, 


HON.    ROGER   A.    PRYOR. 
From  a  vhotopraoh.  about  1870. 


Lonely  Life  in  the  Swamps  219 

without  butter,  fruit,  or  milk,  was  deadly  diet  for  me, 
so  I  was  allowed  an  occasional  courier  from  the 
camp  to  take  my  money  and  scour  the  country  for 
better  fare.  When  he  appeared,  galloping  down  the 
lane,  on  his  return,  he  looked  like  some  extraordi- 
nary feathered  creature  with  a  horse's  head,  so  com- 
pletely were  both  covered  with  turkeys,  ducks,  geese, 
and  chickens.  Then  would  ensue  a  gift  to  the 
camp  hospital  of  soups  and  stews  and  a  fine  sup- 
per for  my  General's  staff,  Major  Shepard,  Captain 
Whitner,  Major  Keiley,  and  Captain  McCann, 
with  as  many  choice  spirits  from  the  officers  as  we 
could  entertain.  Then  was  brewed,  by  the  majors 
and  captains  aforesaid,  a  mighty  bowl  of  egg-nog, 
sweet  and  very  stiff,  for  there  was  no  milk  to  temper 
its  strength.  I  feared  at  first  that  my  Quaker  host 
might  disapprove,  but  I  never  failed  to  find  the 
foaming  glass  I  placed  beside  his  night  lamp  quite 
empty  next  morning. 

I  could  manage  to  occupy  myself  during  the  day. 
I  could  make  a  study  of  Charity,  in  whom  I  soon 
perceived  quite  an  interesting  character,  quick  to 
learn,  responsive,  and  most  affectionate.  She  was 
literally  my  only  female  companion.  I  had  no 
neighbors,  nowhere  to  drive  (the  enemy  was  only 
fifteen  miles  ofF)  except  on  the  watery  lanes,  nothing 
to  meet  when  driving  except,  perhaps,  a  slow-moving 
cart  drawn  by  steeds  like  Sydney  Smith's  "  Tug-and- 
Lug,  Haul-and-Crawl,"  driven  by  a  negro  boy,  who 
stood  with  feet  planted  on  the  shafts  and  who  enter- 
tained his  patient,  long-suffering  oxen  by  telling  them 
of  the  torments  awaiting  them  unless  they  would 


220         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

"  go  along."  But  the  long  and  lonely  evenings 
were  hard  to  bear,  when  the  general  and  his  staff 
were  abroad,  roaming  like  watch-dogs  around  the 
frontier,  deluding  the  enemy  by  a  great  show  of 
bravado  here  and  there.  Nothing  like  the  orchestra 
of  frogs  can  be  imagined.  They  serenaded  the 
moon  all  night  long;  a  magnificent  diapason  of 
mighty  voices,  high  soprano,  full  baritone,  and 
heavy  bass.  I  could  understand  the  desperate  need 
of  the  lone  woman  who  had  once  lived  here.  The 
patchwork  quilts  were  eloquent  witnesses. 

As  the  time  dragged  on  in  this  lonely  place,  I 
began  to  find  that  I  wanted  many  articles  classed  in 
a  woman's  mind  generally  as  "  things.'1 

There  is  not  a  more  generous  word  in  the 
English  language  than  "  things."  It  may  mean, 
according  to  Stormonth,  "  A  Swedish  assize  of 
justice,  a  Norwegian  parliament,  a  meeting  for 
palaver  on  public  affairs,  luggage,  or  clothes,"  — 
which  proves  how  important  is  the  making  of  new 
dictionaries  as  we  travel  along  toward  our  highest 
civilization.  For  instance :  when  you  say  to  your 
butler,  "  Be  careful  with  the  breakfast  things,"  he 
understands  you  perfectly.  He  knows  you  mean 
the  egg-shell  cups,  and  blossomy  plates.  When 
you  bid  your  maid  bring  your  "  things,"  she  appears 
with  your  hat,  gloves,  cloak,  and  furs.  "  Her  rooms 
are  comfortable,  but  I  don't  like  her  things,"  you 
say  when  the  bric-a-brac  and  curios  are  not  to  your 
taste.  "  I  never  speak  of  such  things,"  you  declare 
in  haughty  superiority  when  some  guest  has  filled 
an  hour  with  foolish  or  injurious  gossip.  "  Such 


"Things"  Earthly  and  Heavenly         221 

things  are  beneath  contempt,"  says  the  lawyer  of 
certain  practices  familiar  in  the  courts.  And  then 
we  have  "  poor  thing,"  —  not  the  traditional  robin 
who  "  hides  his  head  under  his  wing,  poor  thing," 
but  some  fine  lady,  far  from  young  and  —  unmarried  ! 
And  "  a  poor  thing,  sir,  but  mine  own,"  —  this  time 
not  a  fine  lady  by  any  means,  only  "  an  ill-favored 
virgin." 

And  then,  having  vexed  our  souls  all  the  week 
over  mundane  "  things,"  we  are  given,  on  Sunday, 
glimpses  of  another  world  quite  as  full  of  them. 

"Wean  yourselves  from  earthly  idols  and  fix 
your  hearts  on  heavenly  things,"  says  the  bishop. 
Things  !  Heavenly  things !  Stars,  harps,  crowns 
of  righteousness,  high  and  lofty  aspirations  ! 

Not  long  after  the  battle  of  Fredericksburg  a 
participator  described  the  panic,  the  horror,  the 
fleeing  of  the  women  and  children  from  their  homes. 
"  And  then,"  he  said,  "  there  arose  from  that  home- 
less, stricken  crowd  of  women  a  cry  of  mortal  agony, 
c  My  things  !  Oh,  my  things  I '  " 

"  Things  "  to  me  meant  only  needful  garments. 
I  could  starve  with  perfect  serenity.  I  could  live 
without  the  latest  novel,  the  late  magazines,  egg- 
shell china,  rich  attire,  jewels ;  but  I  had  not  had 
a  new  bonnet  for  three  years.  Shoes,  and  above 
all  shoestrings,  were  needed  by  my  little  boys, 
needles,  tapes,  sewing  thread  and  sewing  silk,  stays 
and  staylaces,  gloves,  combs.  Of  course  I  needed 
garments  of  muslin  and  linen.  Had  I  not  rolled 
bandages  of  mine  ?  I  needed  gowns.  A  calico 
dress  now  cost  $40.  But  these  large  "  things  " 


222          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

were  quite  beyond  all  hope  on  the  Blackwater. 
Smaller  articles  I  might,  perhaps,  compass.  The 
General's  orders,  however,  strictly  forbade  the  pur- 
chase by  private  individuals  of  articles  smuggled 
through  the  lines.  He  once  confiscated  a  sloop  on 
the  Blackwater  laden  with  women's  shoes,  slippers, 
and  Congress  gaiters  !  He  would  not  allow  me  a 
shoe ;  all  were  sent  to  Richmond  to  be  sold  for  the 
benefit  of  the  government.  Communication  with 
the  enemy  must  be  discouraged  lest  he  discover  our 
weakness. 

I  knew  that  most  of  the  tight  little  carts  peddling 
fish,  potatoes,  and  eggs  had  double  bottoms  between 
which  were  all  sorts  of  delightful  things,  but  I  never 
dared  approach  the  pedler  on  the  subject ;  and  as 
I  was  the  commanding  officer's  wife,  he  dared  not 
approach  me. 

One  day  I  was  in  an  ambulance,  driving  on  one 
of  the  interminable  lanes  of  the  region,  the  only 
incident  being  the  watery  crossing  over  the  "  cosin," 
as  the  driver  called  the  swamps  that  had  been 
"  Poquosin "  in  the  Indian  tongue.  Behind  me 
came  a  jolting  two-wheeled  cart,  drawn  by  a  mule 
and  driven  by  a  small  negro  boy,  who  stood  in  front 
with  a  foot  planted  firmly  upon  each  of  the  shafts. 
Within,  and  completely  filling  the  vehicle,  which 
was  nothing  more  than  a  box  on  wheels,  sat  a 
dignified-looking  woman.  The  dame  of  the  ambu- 
lance at  once  became  fascinated  by  a  small  basket  of 
sweet  potatoes  which  the  dame  of  the  cart  carried  in 
her  lap. 

With  a  view  to  acquiring  these  treasures  I  essayed 


The  Blockade-runner  223 

a  tentative  conversation  upon  the  weather,  the  pros- 
pects of  a  late  spring,  and  finally  the  scarcity  of 
provisions  and  consequent  suffering  of  the  soldiers. 

After  a  keen  glance  of  scrutiny  the  market 
woman  exclaimed,  "  Well,  I  am  doing  all  I  can 
for  them !  I  know  you  won't  speak  of  it !  Look 
here ! " 

Lifting  the  edge  of  her  hooped  petticoat,  she 
revealed  a  roll  of  army  cloth,  several  pairs  of  cavalry 
boots,  a  roll  of  crimson  flannel,  packages  of  gilt  braid 
and  sewing  silk,  cans  of  preserved  meats,  a  bag  of 
coffee  !  She  was  on  her  way  to  our  own  camp, 
right  under  the  General's  nose  !  Of  course  I  should 
not  betray  her  —  I  promised.  I  did  more.  Before 
we  parted  she  had  drawn  forth  a  little  memorandum 
book  and  had  taken  a  list  of  my  own  necessities. 
She  did  not  "  run  the  blockade  "  herself.  She  had 
an  agent — "a  dear,  good  Suffolk  man"  —  who 
would  fill  my  order  on  his  next  trip. 

It  isn't  worth  while  to  tell  men  everything.  They 
are  not  supposed  to  be  interested  in  the  needle-and- 
thread  ways  of  women  ! 

About  three  weeks  after  my  interview  with  the 
blockade-runner,  I  was  driving  again  in  the  ambu- 
lance. Suddenly  Captain  Whitner,  who  had  galloped 
to  overtake  me,  wheeled  in  front  of  the  horses  and 
stopped  them. 

"  Good  morning,  Captain  !  Any  news  at  camp 
I  am  permitted  to  learn  ?  " 

I  perceived  the  corners  of  his  mouth  twitching, 
but  he  said  gravely  :  — 

"  I  am  commissioned  to  tell  you  that  you  must 


224         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

consider  yourself  under  arrest.  I  am  sent  to  dis- 
charge this  painful  duty  and  conduct  you  to  camp." 

"  By  whose  order,  pray  ?  " 

"  Official  orders  from  headquarters,"  and  he  pre- 
sented a  paper. 

I  knew  he  must  be  acting  a  part  for  his  own 
amusement,  and  I  asked  no  questions.  I  would 
not  gratify  him  by  seeming  to  be  alarmed. 

When  I  arrived  at  my  husband's  tent,  I  found 
him  with  Major  Shepard,  and  a  wretched-looking 
countryman  standing  near  them.  I  comprehended 
the  situation  at  a  glance  and  resolved  to  play  my 
part. 

"  This  prisoner,"  said  the  General,  "  has  been 
arrested  for  bringing  in  contraband  goods  in  viola- 
tion of  express  orders.  He  pleads  that  the  goods 
were  ordered  by  the  General's  wife  for  the  use  of 
the  General's  family.  Have  you  anything  to  say  to 
show  cause  why  he  should  not  be  punished  ? " 

"  May  it  please  the  court,"  T  said,  turning  to 
Major  Shepard  and  Captain  Whitner,  "  I  call  you 
to  witness  that  I  invited  you  last  week  to  partake 
of  a  bowl  of  egg-nog,  telling  you  it  was  made  of 
contraband  French  brandy.  When  the  command- 
ing officer's  attention  was  called  to  the  fact,  he  said 
he  could  do  nothing;  he  was  obliged  to  submit 
because  I  was  his  superior  officer,  that  I  outranked 
him  everywhere  except  on  the  march  and  the  battle- 
field." 

A  burst  of  laughter  interrupted  me.  The  chair- 
man called  for  order. 

"  I  confess  that  I  deputed  this  estimable  gentle- 


The  General's  Wife  and  the  Contraband  Goods  225 

man  to  procure  some  sewing  silk  for  the  mending 
of  the  garments  of  my  subordinate  officer.  I  had 
hoped  that  through  his  valor  the  blockade  would,  ere 
this,  have  been  raised.  Finding  myself  mistaken  — " 

"  The  prisoner  is  discharged,"  said  the  General, — 
I  uttered  an  exclamation  of  triumph,  — "  but,"  he 
added,  "  the  goods  are  confiscated  for  the  benefit  of 
the  Confederate  government,  and  are  already  on  the 
way  to  Richmond." 

I  was  very  sorry  for  the  fright  the  poor  man  had 
suffered  for  my  sake.  I  took  him  home  with  me 
beside  the  driver  on  the  ambulance.  Of  course  I 
paid  him.  I  had  one  piece  of  family  silver  with  me 
for  which  I  had  no  use  on  the  Blackwater,  —  a  butter 
knife  —  and  I  gave  it  to  him  as  a  souvenir  of  his 
happy  escape  from  danger. 

How  did  I  manage  without  my  needles  and 
thread  ? 

Charity  came  to  me  early  one  morning  with  a 
brown  paper  parcel  in  her  arms. 

"  Dat  ole  creeter,"  said  Charity,  "  what  come 
home  wid  you  las'  week,  knock  at  de  kitchen  do' 
fo'  day  dis  mornin'.  He  gimme  dis,  an'  say  you 
bleeged  to  git  it  fo'  de  Gen'al  wake  up ;  an'  —  an'  — 
he  say  —  but  Lawd  !  'tain'  wuf  while  to  tell  you  what 
he  say  !  But  he  do  say  to  tell  you  to  gimme  sumpin 
out'n  de  bundle.  Gawd  knows  I  ain'  no  cravin'  po'- 
white-folks'  nigger,  but  dat  what  he  say." 

I  need  not  give  an  inventory  of  the  contents  of 
the  bundle.  They  were  perfectly  satisfactory  to  me 
—  and  to  Charity. 

We   had  slender  mails   on   the    Blackwater,   few 


226         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

papers,  no  books.     Occasionally  a  letter  from  Agnes 
gave  me  news  of  the  outside  world. 

"RICHMOND,  January  7,  1863. 

"  MY  DEARIE  :  Have  you  no  pen,  ink,  and  paper  on  the 
Blackwater  —  the  very  name  of  which  suggests  ink  ?  I  get 
no  news  of  you  at  all.  How  do  you  amuse  yourself,  and 
have  you  anything  to  read  ?  I  am  sending  you  to-day  a 
copy  of  Victor  Hugo's  last  novel,  "  Les  Miserables,"  re- 
printed by  a  Charleston  firm  on  the  best  paper  they  could 
get,  poor  fellows,  pretty  bad  I  must  acknowledge.  You'll 
go  wild  over  that  book  —  I  did  —  and  everybody  does. 

"  Major  Shepard  must  order  some  copies  for  the  brigade. 
As  he  has  plenty  of  meat  and  bread  now,  he  can  afford  it. 
I  have  cried  my  eyes  out  over  Famine  and  Cosette  and 
Jean  Valjean.  The  soldiers  are  all  reading  it.  They 
calmly  walk  into  the  bookstores,  poor  dear  fellows,  and  ask 
for  "  Lee's  Miserables  faintin' !  "  —  the  first  volume  being 
"  Fantine."  I've  worlds  of  news  to  tell  you.  Alice 
Gregory  is  engaged  to  Arthur  Herbert,  the  handsomest 
man  I  know.  Alice  is  looking  lovely  and  so  happy. 
Helen  came  to  see  me  in  Petersburg,  and  is  all  the  time 
worried  about  Ben.  Did  you  know  that  Jim  Field  lost  a 
leg  at  Malvern  Hills  —  or  in  the  hospital  afterwards  ?  He 
was  such  a  lovely  fellow  —  engaged  to  Sue  Bland  —  I  never 
saw  a  handsomer  pair.  Well,  Sue  thinks  as  much  as  I  do 
about  good  looks,  and  Jim  wrote  to  release  her.  She  had 
a  good  cry,  and  finally  came  down  to  Richmond,  married 
him,  and  took  him  home  to  nurse  him. 

u  Do  you  realize  the  fact  that  we  shall  soon  be  without 
a  stitch  of  clothes  ?  There  is  not  a  bonnet  for  sale  in 
Richmond.  Some  of  the  girls  smuggle  them,  which  I  for 
one  consider  in  the  worst  possible  taste,  to  say  the  least. 
We  have  no  right  at  this  time  to  dress  better  than  our 
neighbors,  and  besides,  the  soldiers  need  every  cent  of  our 


News  from  the  Outside  World  227 

money.  Do  you  remember  in  Washington  my  pearl-gray 
silk  bonnet,  trimmed  inside  with  lilies  of  the  valley  ?  I 
have  ripped  it  up,  washed  and  ironed  it,  dyed  the  lilies  blue 
(they  are  bluebells  now),  and  it  is  very  becoming.  All 
the  girls  intend  to  plait  hats  next  summer  when  the  wheat 
ripens,  for  they  have  no  blocks  on  which  to  press  the  coal- 
scuttle bonnets,  and  after  all  when  our  blockade  is  raised 
we  may  find  they  are  not  at  all  worn,  while  hats  are  hats 
and  never  go  out  of  fashion.  The  country  girls  made 
them  last  summer  and  pressed  the  crowns  over  bowls  and 
tin  pails.  I  could  make  lovely  paper  flowers  if  I  had 
materials. 

u  It  seems  rather  volatile  to  discuss  such  things  while 
our  dear  country  is  in  such  peril.  Heaven  knows  I  would 
costume  myself  in  coffee-bags  if  that  would  help,  but  hav- 
ing no  coffee,  where  could  I  get  the  bags  ?  I'll  e'en  go 
afield  next  summer,  and  while  Boaz  is  at  the  front,  Ruth 
will  steal  his  sheaves  for  her  adornment. 

"  The  papery  announce  that  General  French  reports  the 
enemy  forty-five  thousand  strong  at  Suffolk.  How  many 
men  has  your  General  ?  Dear,  dear ! 

"  But  we  are  fortifying  around  Richmond.  While  I  write 
a  great  crowd  of  negroes  is  passing  through  the  streets,  sing- 
ing as  they  march.  They  have  been  working  on  the  forti- 
fications north  of  the  city,  and  are  now  going  to  work  on 
them  south  of  us.  They  don't  seem  to  concern  themselves 
much  about  Mr.  Lincoln's  Emancipation  Proclamation, 
and  they  seem  to  have  no  desire  to  do  any  of  the  fighting. 
"  Your  loving 

"  AGNES." 

"  P.  S.  —  I  attended  Mrs.  Davis' s  last  reception.  There 
was  a  crowd,  all  in  evening  dress.  You  see,  as  we  don't 
often  wear  our  evening  gowns,  they  are  still  quite  passable. 
I  wore  the  gray  silk  with  eleven  flounces  which  was  made 


228          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

for  Mrs.  Douglas's  last  reception,  and  by  the  bye,  who  do 
you  think  was  at  the  battle  of  Williamsburg,  on  General 
McClellan's  staff?  The  Prince  de  Joinville  who  drank 
the  Rose  wine  with  you  at  the  Baron  de  Limbourg's  recep- 
tion to  the  Japs.  Doesn't  it  all  seem  so  long  ago  —  so  far 
away  ?  The  Prince  de  Joinville  escorted  me  to  one  of  the 
President's  levees  —  don't  you  remember  ?  —  and  now  I 
attend  another  President's  levee  and  hear  him  calmly  tell- 
ing some  people  that  rats,  if  fat,  are  as  good  as  squirrels, 
and  that  we  can  never  afford  mule  meat.  It  would  be  too 
expensive,  but  the  time  may  come  when  rats  will  be  in 
demand. 

«  Dearly, 

"  AGNES." 

The  Emancipation  Proclamation  did  not  create  a 
ripple  of  excitement  among  the  colored  members  of 
our  households  in  Virginia.  Of  its  effect  elsewhere 
I  could  not  judge.  As  to  fighting,  our  own  negroes 
never  dreamed  of  such  a  thing.  The  colored  troops 
of  the  North  were  not  inferior,  we  were  told,  in 
discipline  and  courage  to  other  soldiers;  but  the 
martial  spirit  among  them  had  its  exceptions.  A 
Northern  writer  has  recorded  an  interview  with  a 
negro  who  had  run  the  blockade  and  entered  the 
service  of  a  Federal  officer.  He  was  met  on  board 
a  steamer,  after  the  battle  of  Fort  Donelson,  on  his 
way  to  a  new  situation,  and  questioned  in  regard  to 
his  experience  of  war.1 

"  Were  you  in  the  fight  ?  " 

"Had  a  little  taste  of  it,  sah." 

"  Stood  your  ground,  of  course." 

1  "  Camp-fire  and  Battle-ground,"  p.  238. 


A  Negro's  Views  of  his  Place  in  the  War  229 

"  No,  sah  !  I  run." 

"  Not  at  the  first  fire  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sah,  an'  would  a*  run  sooner  ef  I  knowed 
it  was  a-comin' !  " 

"  Why,  that  wasn't  very  creditable  to  your 
courage,  was  it  ?  " 

"  Dat  ain't  in  my  line,  sah  —  cookin's  my 
perfeshun." 

"  But  have  you  no  regard  for  your  reputation  ? " 

"  Refutation's  nothin'  by  de  side  o'  life." 

"  But  you  don't  consider  your  life  worth  more 
than  other  people's,  do  you  ? " 

"  Hit's  wuth  mo'  to  me,  sah." 

"  Then  you  must  value  it  very  highly." 

"Yas,  sah,  I  does,  —  mo'n  all  dis  wuld !  Mo' 
dan  a  million  o'  dollars,  sah.  What  would  dat  be 
wuth  to  a  man  wid  de  bref  out  o'  'im  ?  Self- 
perserbashun  is  de  fust  law  wid  me,  sah  ! " 

"  But  why  should  you  act  upon  a  different  rule 
from  other  men  ?  " 

"  'Cause  difFunt  man  set  difFunt  value  'pon  his 
life.  Mine  ain't  in  de  market." 

"Well,  if  all  soldiers  were  like  you,  traitors 
might  have  broken  up  the  government  without 
resistance." 

"  Dat's  so  1  Dar  wouldn't  'a'  been  no  hep  fer  it. 
But  I  don'  put  my  life  in  de  scale  against  no  gub- 
berment  on  dis  yearth.  No  gubberment  gwine  pay 
me  ef  I  loss  messef." 

"  Well,  do  you  think  you  would  have  been 
much  missed  if  you  had  been  killed  ?  " 

"  Maybe  not,  sah  !     A  daid  white  man  ain'  much 


230         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

use  to  dese  yere  sogers,  let  alone  a  daid  niggah,  but 
I'd  'a'  missed  my sef  powerful,  an'  dat's  de  pint  wid 
me." 

Towards  the  last  of  January  we  had  a  season  of 
warm,  humid  weather.  Apparently  the  winter  was 
over  ;  the  grass  was  springing  on  the  swamp,  green 
and  luxurious,  and  the  willows  swelling  into  bud. 
There  were  no  singing  birds  on  the  Blackwater  as 
early  as  January  28,  but  the  frogs  were  mightily 
exercised  upon  the  coming  of  spring,  and  their 
nightly  concerts  took  on  a  jubilant  note. 

One  day  I  had  a  few  moments'  conversation  with 
my  husband  about  army  affairs,  and  he  remarked 
that  our  Southern  soldiers  were  always  restless 
unless  they  were  in  action.  "  They  never  can  stand 
still  in  battle,"  he  said ;  "  they  are  willing  to  yell 
and  charge  the  most  desperate  positions,  but  if  they 
can't  move  forward,  they  must  move  backward. 
Stand  still  they  cannot." 

I  thought  I  could  perceive  symptoms  of  restless- 
ness on  the  part  of  their  commander.  Often  in  the 
middle  of  the  night  he  would  summon  John,  mount 
him,  and  send  him  to  camp,  a  short  distance  away ; 
and  presently  I  would  hear  the  tramp,  tramp  of  the 
General's  staff  officers,  coming  to  hold  a  council  of 
war  in  his  bedroom.  On  the  28th  of  January  he 
confided  to  me  that  on  the  next  day  he  would  make  a 
sally  in  the  direction  of  the  enemy.  "  He  is  getting 
entirely  too  impudent,"  said  he  ;  "  I'm  not  strong 
enough  to  drive  him  out  of  the  country,  but  he 
must  keep  his  place." 

I  had  just  received  a  present  of  coffee.     This  was  at 


A  Sally  against  the  Enemy  231 

once  roasted  and  ground.  On  the  day  of  the 
march,  fires  were  kindled  under  the  great  pots  used 
at  the  "  hog-killing  time "  (an  era  in  the  house- 
hold) and  many  gallons  of  coffee  were  prepared. 
This  was  sweetened,  and  when  our  men  paused  near 
the  house  to  form  the  line  of  march,  the  servants 
and  little  boys  passed  down  the  line  with  buckets  of 
the  steaming  coffee,  cups,  dippers,  and  gourds. 
Every  soldier  had  a  good  draught  of  comfort  and 
cheer.  The  weather  had  suddenly  changed.  The 
great  snow-storm  that  fell  in  a  few  days  was  gather- 
ing, the  skies  were  lowering,  and  the  horizon  was 
dark  and  threatening. 

After  the  men  had  marched  away,  I  drove  to  the 
hospital  tent  and  put  myself  at  the  disposal  of  the 
surgeon.  We  inspected  the  store  of  bandages  and 
lint,  and  I  was  intrusted  with  the  preparation  of 
more. 

"  I  ain'  got  no  use  for  dis  stuff,"  said  my  one 
female  friend  and  companion,  Charity, whom  I  pressed 
into  service  to  help  me  pick  lint.  "  Tears  like  'tain't 
good  for  nuthin'  but  to  line  a  bird's  nes'." 

"  It  will  be  soft  for  the  wound  of  a  soldier,"  I 
said,  "  after  he  has  fought  the  Yankees." 

"  I'll  pick  den  ;  I'll  tar  up  my  onlies'  apun  ef  he'll 
kill  one." 

"Oh,  Charity!" 

"  Yas'm,  I  will  dat !  Huccome  we  all  don'  drive 
'm  out  o'  Suffolk  ?  Der's  lodes  an  lodes  o*  shoes 
an'  stockin's,  an'  sugar  an'  cawfy  in  Suffolk!  An' 
dese  nasty  Abolition  Yankees  got  'em  all !  " 

"  Those  are  not  proper  words  for  you  to  use,"  I 


23  2          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

said.      "  What    have    you    against     the     Northern 
people  ?     They  never  did  you  harm/' 

"  Dey  ain't,  ain't  dey  ?  "  she  replied,  with  feeling. 
"  Huccome  I'se  got  to  go  barfooted  ?  Hit's  scan'- 
lous  for  a  free  gal  to  go  barfooted,  like  she  was  so 
no  'count  she  couldn't  git  a  par  o'  shoes  fer  her- 
se'f." 

"  I'll  ask  the  General  to  order  a  pair  for  you." 

"  Humph  !  "  said  Charity,  scornfully;  "you  can't 
do  nothin'  wid  dat  Gen'al.  Ain'  I  hear  you  baig 
an'  baig  'im  for  a  par  o'  slippers  dat  time  he  fris- 
tricated  de  boatload  full  ?  I  ain'  seen  you  git  de 
slippers." 

Charity  was  not  the  only  one  of  the  Nation's 
Wards  who  held  the  enemy  in  contempt.  The 
special  terms  in  which  she  designated  them  were  in 
common  use  at  the  time.  She  had  often  heard  them 
from  the  General's  servant,  John,  who  shared  the 
opinions  of  the  common  soldier.  Some  of  the  ex- 
pressions of  the  great  men  I  knew  in  Washington 
were  quite  as  offensive  and  not  a  bit  less  inelegant, 
although  framed  in  better  English.  I  never  ap- 
proved of  "  calling  names,"  I  had  seen  what  comes 
of  it ;  and  I  reproved  John  for  teaching  them  to 
my  little  boys. 

"No'm,"  said  John,  "I  won't  say  nothin';  I'll 
just  say  the  Yankees  are  mighty  mean  folks." 

My  first  news  from  the  General  was  cheering, 
but  he  would  not  return  for  a  day  or  two.  He 
must  fly  about  the  frontier  a  little  in  various  direc- 
tions to  let  the  enemy  know  he  was  holding  his  own. 
His  official  report  was  as  follows :  — 


The  General's  Report  and  his  Address     233 

"  To  BRIGADIER-GENERAL  COLSTON,  Petersburg,  Va. 

"CARRSVILLE,   ISLE  OF  WIGHT,  January  30,  1863. 

"  GENERAL  :  This  morning  at  4  o'clock  the  enemy  under 
Major-General  Peck  attacked  me  at  Kelly's  store,  eight 
miles  from  Suffolk.  After  three  hours'  severe  fighting  we 
repulsed  them  at  all  points  and  held  the  field.  Their  force 
is  represented  by  prisoners  to  be  between  ten  and  fifteen 
thousand.  My  loss  in  killed  and  wounded  will  not  exceed 
fifty  —  no  prisoners.  I  regret  that  Col.  Poage  is  among 
the  killed.  We  inflicted  a  heavy  loss  on  the  enemy. 
u  Respectfully, 

"  ROGER  A.   PRYOR,  Brigadier- General  Commanding" 

On  February  2  the  General  thus  addressed  his 
troops :  "  The  Brigadier-General  congratulates  the 
troops  of  this  command  on  the  results  of  the  recent 
combat. 

"  The  enemy  endeavored  under  cover  of  night  to 
steal  an  inglorious  victory  by  surprise,  but  he  found 
us  prepared  at  every  point,  and  despite  his  superior 
numbers,  greater  than  your  own,  in  the  proportion 
of  five  to  one,  he  was  signally  repulsed  and  com- 
pelled to  leave  us  in  possession  of  the  field. 

"  After  silencing  his  guns  and  dispersing  his 
infantry,  you  remained  on  the  field  from  night  until 
one  o'clock,  awaiting  the  renewal  of  the  attack,  but 
he  did  not  again  venture  to  encounter  your  terrible 
fire. 

"  When  the  disparity  of  force  between  the  parties 
is  considered,  with  the  proximity  of  the  enemy  to 
his  stronghold,  and  his  facilities  of  reinforcements  by 
railway,  the  result  of  the  action  of  the  3<Dth  will  be 


234         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

accepted  as  a  splendid  illustration  of  your  courage 
and  good  conduct." 

One  of  the  "  enemy's  "  papers  declared  that  our 
force  was  "three  regiments  of  infantry,  fourteen 
pieces  of  artillery,  and  about  nine  hundred  cavalry." 

The  temptation  to  "  lie  under  a  mistake  "  was 
great  in  those  days  of  possible  disaffection,  when 
soldiers  had  to  believe  in  their  cause  in  order  to 
defend  it.  One  of  the  newspaper  correspondents  of 
the  enemy  explained  why  we  were  not  again  attacked 
after  the  first  fight.  He  said  :  "  Some  may  inquire 
why  we  did  not  march  forthwith  to  Carrsville  and 
attack  the  rebels  again.  The  reasons  are  obvious. 
Had  he  went  [sic]  to  Carrsville  Pry  or  would  have 
had  the  advantage  to  cut  off  our  retreat.  The 
natives  know  every  bypath  and  blind  road  through 
the  woods  and  are  ever  ready  to  help  the  rebels  to 
our  detriment.  Pryor  can  always  cross  the  Black- 
water  on  his  floating  bridge.  It  is  prudent  to  allow 
an  enemy  to  get  well  away  from  his  stronghold  the 
better  to  capture  his  guns  and  destroy  his  ammuni- 
tion," etc. 

Another  paper  declares  he  was  heavily  reenforced 
at  Carrsville. 

Another  records :  "  The  rebels  have  been  very 
bold  in  this  neighborhood.  Pryor  has  been  in  the 
habit  of  crossing  the  Blackwater  River  whenever  he 
wanted  to.  Our  attacking  him  this  time  must  have 
been  a  real  surprise  to  him.  We  took  a  large 
number  of  prisoners  !  " 

He  continued  the  indulgence  of  this  habit  until 
spring,  receiving  from  his  countrymen  unstinted 


Congratulations  from  Richmond          235 

praise  for  his  protection  of  that  part  of  our  state. 
While  he  could  not  utterly  rout  the  invading  army, 
he  "  held  them  very  uneasy." 

I  was  made  rich  by  enthusiastic  congratulations 
from  our  capital  and  from  Petersburg.  Agnes 
wrote  from  Richmond  :  — 

"Have  you  seen  the  Enquirer?  Of  course  this  is  very 
grand  for  you  because  this  is  your  own  little  fight  —  all  by 
yourself.  In  Richmond  everybody  says  the  General  is  to 
be  promoted  Major-General.  When  he  is,  I  shall  attach 
myself  permanently  to  his  staff.  The  life  of  inglorious 
idleness  here  is  perfectly  awful.  If  you  suppose  I  don't 
long  for  a  rich  experience,  you  are  mistaken.  Give  me 
the  whole  of  it  —  victory,  defeat,  glory  and  misfortune, 
praise  and  even  censure  (so  it  be  en  plein  air)  —  anything, 
everything,  except  stolid,  purposeless,  hopeless  uselessness. 

"The  worst  effect  of  this  inaction  is  felt  in  this  city, 
where  we  can  manufacture  nothing  for  the  soldiers,  and 
only  consume  in  idleness  what  they  need.  A  sort  of 
court  is  still  kept  up  here  —  but  the  wives  of  our  great 
generals  are  conspicuous  for  their  absence.  Mrs.  Lee  is 
never  seen  at  receptions.  She  and  her  daughters  spend 
their  time  knitting  and  sewing  for  the  soldiers,  just  as  her 
great-grandmother,  Martha  Washington,  did  in  '76 ;  and 
General  Lee  writes  that  these  things  are  needed.  People 
here,  having  abundant  time  to  find  fault,  do  not  hesitate  to 
say  that  our  court  ladies  assume  too  much  state  for 
revolutionary  times.  They  had  better  be  careful !  We 
won't  guillotine  them  —  at  least  not  on  the  block  (there 
are  other  guillotines),  but  it  would  be  lovelier  if  they 
could  realize  their  fine  opportunities.  Think  of  Florence 
Nightingale  !  Mrs.  Davis  is  very  chary  of  the  time  she 
allots  us.  If  King  Solomon  were  to  call  with  the  Queen 


236         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

of  Sheba  on  his  arm  the  fraction  of  a  moment  after  the 
closing  minute  of  her  reception,  he  would  not  be  admitted  ! 
I  can  just  see  you  saying,  in  that  superior  manner  you  see 
fit  to  assume  with  me  :  — 

"'But,  Agnes  dear!  that  is  good  form,  you  know,  and 
belongs  to  the  etiquette  of  polite  life.' 

"  Of  course  I  know  it !  Did  I  say  that  Mrs.  Davis 
should  admit  King  Solomon  ?  /  wouldn't !  I  only  tell 
you  what  other  folks  think  and  say  —  but  ajew ,  until  I  hear 
some  more  news  and  gossip. 

"  Dearly  again, 

"  AGNES." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

VICISSITUDES    OF    THE    WAR 


M 


Y  friend  Agnes  could  soon  record  graver 
things  than  idleness  or  gossip.  On  April 
4,  1863,  she  wrote  from  Richmond:  — 


"  MY  DEAR  :  I  hope  you  appreciate  the  fact  that  you 
are  herewith  honored  with  a  letter  written  in  royal-red  ink 
upon  sumptuous  gilt-edged  paper.  There  is  not,  at  the 
present  writing,  one  inch  of  paper  for  sale  in  the  capital 
of  the  Confederacy,  at  all  within  the  humble  means  of  the 
wife  of  a  Confederate  officer.  Well  is  it  for  her  —  and  I 
hope  for  you  —  that  her  youthful  admirers  were  few,  and 
so  her  gorgeous  cream-and-gold  album  was  only  half  filled 
with  tender  effusions.  Out  come  the  blank  leaves,  to  be 
divided  between  her  friend  and  her  Colonel.  Don't  be 
alarmed  at  the  color  of  the  writing.  I  have  not  yet  dipped 
my  goose-quill  (there  are  no  steel  pens)  in  the  '  ruddy  drops 
that  visit  my  sad  heart,'  nor  yet  into  good  orthodox  red  ink. 
There  are  fine  oaks  in  the  country,  and  that  noble  tree 
bears  a  gall-nut  filled  with  crimson  sap.  One  lies  on  my 
table,  and  into  its  sanguinary  heart  I  plunge  my  pen. 

u  Something  very  sad  has  just  happened  in  Richmond  — 
something  that  makes  me  ashamed  of  all  my  jeremiads  over 
the  loss  of  the  petty  comforts  and  conveniences  of  life  — 
hats,  bonnets,  gowns,  stationery,  books,  magazines,  dainty 
food.  Since  the  weather  has  been  so  pleasant,  I  have  been 
in  the  habit  of  walking  in  the  Capitol  Square  before  break- 

237 


238         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

fast  every  morning.  Somehow  nothing  so  sets  me  up  after 
a  restless  night  as  a  glimpse  of  the  dandelions  waking  up 
from  their  dewy  bed  and  the  songs  of  the  birds  in  the  Park. 
Yesterday,  upon  arriving,  I  found  within  the  gates  a  crowd 
of  women  and  boys  —  several  hundreds  of  them,  standing 
quietly  together.  I  sat  on  a  bench  near,  and  one  of  the 
number  left  the  rest  and  took  the  seat  beside  me.  She  was 
a  pale,  emaciated  girl,  not  more  than  eighteen,  with  a  sun- 
bonnet  on  her  head,  and  dressed  in  a  clean  calico  gown. 
c  I  could  stand  no  longer/  she  explained.  As  I  made  room 
for  her,  I  observed  that  she  had  delicate  features  and  large 
eyes.  Her  hair  and  dress  were  neat.  As  she  raised  her 
hand  to  remove  her  sunbonnet  and  use  it  for  a  fan,  her 
loose  calico  sleeve  slipped  up,  and  revealed  the  mere  skeleton 
of  an  arm.  She  perceived  my  expression  as  I  looked  at  it, 
and  hastily  pulled  down  her  sleeve  with  a  short  laugh. 
1  This  is  all  that's  left  of  me  ! '  she  said.  '  It  seems  real 
funny,  don't  it  ? '  Evidently  she  had  been  a  pretty  girl  — 
a  dressmaker's  apprentice,  I  judged  from  her  chafed  fore- 
finger and  a  certain  skill  in  the  lines  of  her  gown.  I  was 
encouraged  to  ask :  *  What  is  it  ?  Is  there  some  celebra- 
tion ? ' 

" '  There  /V  said  tne  gir^  solemnly  ;  c  we  celebrate  our 
right  to  live.  We  are  starving.  As  soon  as  enough  of  us 
get  together  we  are  going  to  the  bakeries  and  each  of  us 
will  take  a  loaf  of  bread.  That  is  little  enough  for  the 
government  to  give  us  after  it  has  taken  all  our  men.' 

"  Just  then  a  fat  old  black  Mammy  waddled  up  the  walk 
to  overtake  a  beautiful  child  who  was  running  before  her. 
1  Come  dis  a  way,  honey,'  she  called,  '  don't  go  nigh  dem 
people,'  adding,  in  a  lower  tone,  c  I's  feared  you'll  ketch 
somethin'  fum  dem  po' -white  folks.  I  wonder  dey  lets  'em 
into  de  Park.' 

The  girl  turned  to  me  with  a  wan  smile,  and  as  she  rose 
to  join  the  long  line  that  had  now  formed  and  was  moving, 


Account  of  a  Bread  Riot  in  Richmond      239 

she  said  simply,  '  Good-by  !     I'm  going  to  get  something  to 
eat!' 

"  '  And  I  devoutly  hope  you'll  get  it  —  and  plenty  of  it,' 
I  told  her.  The  crowd  now  rapidly  increased,  and  num- 
bered, I  am  sure,  more  than  a  thousand  women  and  chil- 
dren. It  grew  and  grew  until  it  reached  the  dignity  of  a 
mob  —  a  bread  riot.  They  impressed  all  the  light  carts 
they  met,  and  marched  along  silently  and  in  order.  They 
marched  through  Gary  Street  and  Main,  visiting  the  stores 
of  the  speculators  and  emptying  them  of  their  contents. 
Governor  Letcher  sent  the  mayor  to  read  the  Riot  Act, 
and  as  this  had  no  effect  he  threatened  to  fire  on  the  crowd. 
The  city  battalion  then  came  up.  The  women  fell  back 
with  frightened  eyes,  but  did  not  obey  the  order  to  disperse. 
The  President  then  appeared,  ascended  a  dray,  and  addressed 
them.  It  is  said  he  was  received  at  first  with  hisses  from 
the  boys,  but  after  he  had  spoken  some  little  time  with 
great  kindness  and  sympathy,  the  women  quietly  moved  on, 
taking  their  food  with  them.  General  Elzey  and  General 
Winder  wished  to  call  troops  from  the  camps  to  l  suppress 
the  women,'  but  Mr.  Seddon,  wise  man,  declined  to  issue 
the  order.  While  I  write  women  and  children  are  still 
standing  in  the  streets,  demanding  food,  and  the  government 
is  issuing  to  them  rations  of  rice. 

"  This  is  a  frightful  state  of  things.  I  am  telling  you  of 
it  because  not  one  word  has  been  said  in  the  newspapers  about 
it.  All  will  be  changed,  Judge  Campbell  tells  me,  if  we  can 
win  a  battle  or  two  (but,  oh,  at  what  a  price  !),  and  regain 
the  control  of  our  railroads.  Your  General  has  been  mag- 
nificent. He  has  fed  Lee's  army  all  winter  —  I  wish  he 
could  feed  our  starving  women  and  children. 

"Dearly,  «AGNES." 

My  good  Agnes  reckoned  without  her  host  when 
she  supposed  General  Pryor  would  be  rewarded  for 


240         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

his  splendid  service  on  the  Blackwater.  He  had 
never  ceased  all  winter  to  remind  the  Secretary  of 
War  of  his  promise  to  give  him  a  permanent  com- 
mand. He  now  felt  that  he  had  earned  it.  He 
had  fought  many  battles,  acquitting  himself  with 
distinction  in  all,  —  Williamsburg,  Seven  Pines, 
Mechanicsville,  Gaines's  Mill,  Frazier's  Farm,  the 
Second  Manassas,  and  Sharpsburg,  besides  the  fight 
on  the  Blackwater. 

He  now  wrote,  April  6,  1863,  an  almost  pas- 
sionate appeal  to  the  President  himself,  imploring 
that  he  be  sent  into  active  service,  and  not  be  "  denied 
participation  in  the  struggles  that  are  soon  to  deter- 
mine the  destinies  of  my  country.  If  I  know 
myself,"  he  added,  "  it  is  not  the  vanity  of  com- 
mand that  moves  me  to  this  appeal.  A  single  and 
sincere  wish  to  contribute  somewhat  to  the  success 
of  our  cause  impels  me  to  entreat  that  I  may  be 
assigned  to  duty.  That  my  position  is  not  the 
consequence  of  any  default  of  mine  you  will  be 
satisfied  by  the  enclosed  letter  from  General  Lee." 
The  letter  was  followed  by  new  promises.  It  was 
supplemented  by  General  Pryor's  fellow-officers, 
who  not  only  urged  that  the  country  should  not  lose 
his  services,  but  designated  certain  regiments  which 
might  easily  be  assigned  to  him.  The  President 
wrote  courteous  letters  in  reply,  always  repeating 
assurances  of  esteem,  etc.  The  Richmond  Examiner 
and  other  papers  now  began  to  notice  the  matter 
and  present  General  Pryor  as  arrayed  with  the  party 
against  the  administration.  This,  being  untrue,  he 
contradicted.  On  March  17,  1863,  the  President 
wrote  to  him  the  following  :  — 


The  General  becomes  a  Private  Soldier     241 

"  GENERAL  ROGER  A.  PRYOR  ; 

"  GENERAL  :  Your  gratifying  letter  on  the  6th  inst.  re- 
ferring to  an  article  in  the  Examiner  newspaper  which 
seems  to  associate  you  with  the  opposition  to  the  adminis- 
tration, has  been  received. 

u  I  did  not  see  the  article  in  question,  but  I  am  glad  it 
has  led  to  an  expression  so  agreeable.  The  good  opinion 
of  one  so  competent  to  judge  of  public  affairs,  and  who  has 
known  me  so  long  and  closely,  is  a  great  support  in  the 
midst  of  many  and  arduous  trials. 

"  Very  respectfully  and  truly  yours, 

"JEFFERSON  DAVIS." 

Among  the  letters  sent  to  Mr.  Davis  in  General 
Pryor's  behalf  was  one  from  General  Lee  and  one 
from  General  Jackson,  both  of  which  unhappily 
remained  in  the  President's  possession,  no  copies 
having  been  kept  by  General  Pryor. 

As  time  went  on,  my  husband  waited  with  such 
patience  as  he  could  command.  Finally  he  resigned 
his  commission  as  brigadier-general,  and  also  his  seat 
in  Congress,  and  entered  General  Fitz  Lee's  cavalry 
as  a  private  soldier.  His  resignation  was  held  a  long 
time  by  the  President  "  in  the  hope  it  would  be 
reconsidered,"  and  repeatedly  General  Pryor  was 
"  assured  of  the  President's  esteem,"  etc.  General 
Jackson,  General  Longstreet,  General  A.  P.  Hill, 
General  D.  H.  Hill,  General  Wilcox,  General  George 
Pickett,  General  Beauregard,  were  all  his  friends. 
Some  of  them  had,  like  General  Johnston  and  Gen- 
eral McClellan,  similar  experience.  It  was  a  bitter 
hour  for  me  when  my  General  followed  me  to  the 
Amelia  Springs  with  news  that  he  had  entered  the 


242          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

cavalry  as  a  private.  "Stay  with  me  and  the 
children,"  I  implored. 

"  No,"  he  said ;  "  I  had  something  to  do  with 
bringing  on  this  war.  I  must  give  myself  to  Vir- 
ginia. She  needs  the  help  of  all  her  sons.  If  there 
are  too  many  brigadier-generals  in  the  service,  —  it 
may  be  so,  —  certain  it  is  there  are  not  enough  pri- 
vate soldiers." 

The  Divinity  that  cc  rules  our  ends,  rough  hew 
them  as  we  may,"  was  guiding  him.  I  look  back 
with  gratitude  to  these  circumstances,  —  then  so  hard 
to  bear,  —  circumstances  to  which,  I  am  persuaded, 
I  owe  my  husband's  life. 

General  Fitz  Lee  welcomed  him  in  hearty  fashion  : 

''HEADQUARTERS,   AugUSt  26,    1863. 

"  Honorable,  General,  or  Mr  ?  How  shall  I  address 
you  ?  Damn  it,  there's  no  difference  !  Come  up  to  see 
me.  Whilst  I  regret  the  causes  that  induced  you  to  resign 
your  position,  I  am  glad,  really,  that  the  country  has  not 
lost  your  active  services,  and  that  your  choice  to  serve  her 
has  been  cast  in  one  of  my  regiments. 
"  Very  respectfully, 

"  FITZ  LEE." 

As  a  common  soldier  in  the  cavalry  service,  Gen- 
eral Pryor  was  assigned  the  duties  of  his  position, 
from  not  one  of  which  did  he  ever  excuse  himself. 

On  May  3  General  Lee  had  offered  thanks  to 
Almighty  God  for  a  great  victory  at  Chancellorsville. 

On  May  4,  the  date  of  Agnes's  letter,  news  came 
that  General  Jackson  had  been  seriously  wounded 


Fitz  Lee's  Force  enters  Pennsylvania      243 

and  his  arm  amputated.  On  May  10  the  General 
died,  and  we  were  all  plunged  into  the  deepest  grief. 
By  every  man,  woman,  and  child  in  the  Confederacy 
this  good  man  and  great  general  was  mourned 
as  never  man  was  mourned  before.  From  the 
moment  of  his  death  the  tide  of  fortune  seemed  to 
turn.  Henceforth  there  would  be  only  disaster  and 
defeat.  In  losing  General  Jackson  our  dear  com- 
mander lost  his  right  arm.  But  this  only  inspired 
him  to  greater  and  more  aggressive  action. 

He  decided  to  take  his  army  into  Pennsylvania, 
and  after  entering  that  state,  on  June  27,  he  issued 
his  famous  order,  reminding  one  of  General  Wash- 
ington's similar  order  from  Pennsylvania,  1777  :  — 

"  GENERAL  ORDER  No.  73.     FROM  THE  HEADQUARTERS, 
ARMY  OF  NORTHERN  VIRGINIA 

"  The  commanding  general  has  observed  the  conduct  of 
the  troops  upon  the  march,  and  confidently  anticipates  re- 
sults commensurate  with  the  high  spirit  they  have  mani- 
fested. .  .  .  Their  conduct  has,  with  few  exceptions,  been 
in  keeping  with  their  character  as  soldiers,  and  entitles  them 
to  approbation  and  praise. 

"  There  have,  however,  been  instances  of  forgetfulness, 
on  the  part  of  some,  that  they  have  in  keeping  the  yet  un- 
sullied reputation  of  the  army,  and  that  the  duties  exacted 
of  us  by  civilization  and  Christianity  are  not  less  obligatory 
in  the  country  of  the  enemy  than  in  our  own. 

"  The  commanding  general  considers  that  no  greater 
disgrace  could  befall  the  army,  and  through  it  our  whole 
people,  than  the  perpetration  of  the  barbarous  outrages 
upon  the  innocent  and  defenceless,  and  the  wanton  destruc- 
tion of  private  property,  which  have  marked  the  course  of 


244         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

the  enemy  in  our  country.  Such  proceedings  not  only  dis- 
grace the  perpetrators  and  all  connected  with  them,  but  are 
subversive  of  the  discipline  and  efficiency  of  the  army,  and 
destructive  of  the  ends  of  our  present  movements.  It  must 
be  remembered  that  we  make  war  only  on  armed  men,  that 
we  cannot  take  vengeance  for  the  wrongs  our  people  have 
suffered  without  lowering  ourselves  in  the  eyes  of  all  whose 
abhorrence  has  been  excited  by  the  atrocities  of  our  enemy, 
and  offending  against  Him  to  whom  vengeance  belongeth, 
without  whose  favor  and  support  must  all  prove  vain." 

Washington,  Lee,  and  McClellan  were  not  alone 
in  their  ideas  of  civilized  and  Christian  warfare. 

Eighty-four  years  before  this  time  there  was  a  war 
in  this  same  country.  It  was  a  rebellion,  too,  and  a 
nobleman  led  the  troops  of  Great  Britain  through 
the  country  to  subdue  the  rebellion.  The  people 
through  whose  land  he  marched  were  bitterly  hostile. 
They  shot  his  foraging  parties,  sentinels,  and  strag- 
glers ;  they  fired  upon  him  from  every  wood. 

On  January  28,  1781,  this  order  was  issued  from 
camp  near  Beatty's  Ford :  — 

"  Lord  Cornwallis  has  so  often  experienced  the  zeal  and 
good  will  of  the  army  that  he  has  not  the  smallest  doubt 
that  the  officers  and  soldiers  will  most  cheerfully  submit  to 
the  ill  conveniences  that  must  naturally  attend  war,  so  re- 
mote from  water,  carriage,  and  the  magazines  of  the  army. 
The  supply  of  rum  for  a  time  will  be  absolutely  impossible, 
and  that  of  meal  very  uncertain.  It  is  needless  to  point  out 
to  the  officers  the  necessity  of  preserving  the  strictest  disci- 
pline, and  of  preventing  the  oppressed  people  from  suffering 
violence  by  the  hands  from  whom  they  are  taught  to  look 
for  protection." 


Orders  of  Lee  and  of  Cornwallis  Compared     245 

O  '  ""  "HEADQUARTERS,    CAUSLER*S    PLANTATION, 

"February   27,  1781. 

"  Lord  Cornwallis  is  highly  displeased  that  several  houses 
have  been  set  on  fire  to-day  during  the  march  —  a  disgrace 
to  the  army  —  and  he  will  punish  to  the  utmost  severity  any 
person  or  persons  who  shall  be  found  guilty  of  committing 
so  disgraceful  an  outrage.  His  Lordship  requests  the  com- 
manding officers  of  the  corps  will  endeavor  to  find  the  per- 
sons who  set  fire  to  the  houses  this  day.  .  .  .  Any  officer 
who  looks  on  with  indifference  and  does  not  do  his  utmost 
to  prevent  shameful  marauding  will  be  considered  in  a  more 
criminal  light  than  the  persons  who  commit  these  scandalous 
crimes." 

Again :  — 

"HEADQUARTERS,   FREELANDS,   February  2 8,  1781. 

"  A  watch  found  by  the  regiment  of  Bose.  The  owner 
may  have  it  from  the  adjutant  of  that  regiment  upon  prov- 
ing property." 

Another :  — 

"SMITH'S  PLANTATION,   March  I,  1781. 

"  BRIGADE  ORDERS.  —  A  woman  having  been  robbed  of 
a  watch,  a  black  silk  handkerchief,  a  gallon  of  brandy,  and 
a  shirt,  and  as  by  description,  by  a  soldier  of  the  guards,  the 
camp  and  every  man's  kit  is  to  be  immediately  searched  for 
the  same,  by  the  officer  of  the  brigade." 

And  so  it  is  that  every  circumstance  of  life  is 
an  opportunity  for  a  noble  spirit.  When  we  "  let 
slip  the  dogs  of  war,"  some  men  find  excuse  for 
license  and  cruelty,  others  for  the  exercise  of  self- 
restraint  and  compassion.  Admiral  Porter  tells  a 
story  which  may  illustrate  the  strange  "  point  of 


246          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

view "  in  the  minds  of  some  brave  men  upon  the 
legitimate  conduct  of  war. 

"  The  exploits  of  the  army  in  foraging,"  said  the 
Admiral,  "afforded  matter  for  much  amusement 
among  the  officers  at  Vicksburg.  At  Bruensburg, 
General  Grant  made  his  headquarters  in  the  spring 
of  1863.  Bruensburg  and  the  surrounding  country 
was  the  great  depot  for  live  stock,  grain,  etc.,  and 
the  soldiers'  lines  seemed  to  have  fallen  in  pleasant 
places.  For  aging  was  not  prohibited ;  in  fact  the  sol- 
diers were  cautioned  to  save  the  government  rations 
for  an  emergency,  so  that  the  squealing  of  pigs,  the 
bleating  of  calves  and  sheep,  and  the  cackling  of 
poultry  were  common  sounds  in  camp." 

As  an  illustration  of  the  wholesale  robbery  of  the 
peaceful  citizens  Admiral  Porter  tells  of  an  appeal 
made  to  General  Grant  by  an  old  man,  long  past 
the  age  to  bear  arms,  who  pushed  aside  the  flaps  of 
the  General's  tent  and  thrust  in  his  head.  In  his 
hand  he  held  a  rope  to  which  was  attached  a  miser- 
able mule,  minus  one  eye.  -  He  told  the  General,  in 
the  poor-white's  vernacular,  of  his  nice  little  farm, 
well  stocked  "with  the  finest  lot  of  chickens, 
turkeys,  pigs,  an'  sheep  as  ever  you  seen,"  and  that 
the  Yankee  soldiers  had  stolen  everything  except  the 
"  ole  muel  and  one  goose." 

"  Here,  Rawlins,  attend  to  this  man,"  said  the 
General,  and  walked  away. 

"  What  do  you  expect  me  to  do  ?  "  inquired  Gen- 
eral Rawlins.  "  How  are  you  going  to  find  out  who 
did  all  you  complain  of?  " 

"  Well,  I  know  who  did  it,"  said  the  old  fellow ; 


An  "Amusing"  Story  about  Foraging     247 

"  it's  one  of  Gin'ral  A.  J.  Smith's  rigiments.  I 
know  the  sargint  what  led  'em  on.  He  belongs  to 
the  Thirteenth  lowy,  an'  he  kin  skin  a  hog  quicker' n 
greased  lightnin' ! " 

Just  then  General  Smith  walked  in  the  tent,  and 
the  complaint  was  laid  before  him. 

"  They  weren't  my  men,  sir,"  said  General  Smith. 
"  I  know  my  boys  too  well.  They  would  never 
have  left  that  mule  and  goose  !  No,  sir,  my  boys 
don't  do  things  that  way  ;  and  I  advise  you,  old 
man,  to  go  back  and  keep  your  eye  on  your  goose 
and  mule." 

The  old  man  turned  to  gaze  on  his  beloved  mule. 
It  was  gone !  A  soldier  stood  at  the  end  of  the 
rope ! 

General  Smith  glanced  proudly  around.  "Ah, 
Rawlins,"  he  said,  "  those  must  have  been  my  men 
after  all.  If  I  could  only  hear  they  had  eaten  the 
goose,  I  should  be  sure  of  it." 

The  story  does  not  follow  the  aged  man  to  his 
desolate  cabin  ;  but  it  followed  the  Admiral  as  an 
amusing  story  for  many  an  evening  around  the 
punch-bowl. 

Among  the  men  arrayed  against  the  South  in 
battle  were  many  worthy  descendants  of  the  men 
who  achieved  their  independence  in  1775-1781, 
and  who  then  fought  shoulder  to  shoulder  with 
the  South. 

"  They  were  a  brave,  self-reliant,  patriotic  race, 
and  in  all  the  characteristics  of  manliness,  persever- 
ance, fortitude,  and  courage,  were  the  equals  of 
any  race  that  ever  lived."  It  was  from  these  men, 


248          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

native-born  Americans  of  the  North  and  West,  that 
many  a  persecuted  woman  in  Georgia,  South  Caro- 
lina, and  North  Carolina  received  help  and  restitu- 
tion of  property.  But  war  brutalizes  mean  men. 
The  few  cannot  control  the  many. 

War,  wicked,  cruel  war,  knows  no  mercy,  no  jus- 
tice. War  is  the  dreadful  crime  of  the  world. 
Against  war  prayer  should  ascend  day  and  night 
until  it  shall  cease  forever.  It  is  not  right  that  it 
should  be  classed  with  "  pestilence  and  famine "  in 
our  prayers.  It  should  have  an  hour  —  a  daily 
hour  —  to  itself,  when  old  men  and  women,  young 
men  and  maidens,  and  little  children  should  implore 
God  to  make  wars  to  cease  from  the  fair  world  He 
has  created. 

The  refugees  who  came  to  us  from  exposed  dis- 
tricts within  the  enemy's  lines  thrilled  our  souls  with 
horror.  We  heard  these  stories  from  the  valley  of 
Virginia  and  from  Norfolk.  Liberty  of  speech  in 
child  or  woman  was  sternly  punished.  At  Norfolk 
a  clergyman,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Armstrong,  had  been  put 
in  the  chain  gang  and  compelled  to  work  on  the 
streets  because  of  disrespectful  allusion  to  the  pres- 
ence of  Federal  troops.  We  trembled  at  these 
recitals ;  but  we  never  dreamed  the  war  would 
come  to  us.  At  twilight,  when  the  air  was  clear 
and  still,  we  could  hear  the  booming  of  the  heavy 
guns  of  the  ironclads  on  James  River;  but 
McClellan  had  been  unable  to  take  Richmond,  and 
nobody  would  want  little  Petersburg. 

In  July,  General  Lee  fought  and  lost  the  great 
battle  of  Gettysburg,  which  plunged  our  state  into 


Defeat  at  Gettysburg  and  Fall  of  Vicksburg     249 

mourning  and  lamentation.  Never  can  the  world 
read  with  dry  eyes  of  the  charge  of  Pickett's  brigade 
and  the  manner  in  which  it  was  met.  "  Decry  war 
as  we  may  and  ought/*  says  Rhodes  in  his  "  History/' 
" c  breathes  there  the  man  with  soul  so  dead '  who 
would  not  thrill  with  emotion  to  claim  for  his  coun- 
trymen the  men  who  made  that  charge  and  the  men 
who  met  it  ?  General  Lee  bore  the  disaster  mag- 
nificently. An  officer,  attempting  to  place  on  other 
shoulders  some  portion  of  the  blame,  General  Lee 
said  solemnly,  'All  this  has  been  MY  fault  —  it  is  / 
that  have  lost  this  fight,  and  you  must  all  help  me 
out  of  it  in  the  best  way  you  can/  ' 

The  Federal  loss  in  this  battle,  killed,  wounded, 
and  captured,  was  23,003,  the  Confederate  20,451 
—  making  a  total  of  43,454  good  and  true  men  lost, 
in  one  battle,  to  their  country.  The  emblem  of 
mourning  hung  at  many  a  door  among  our  friends 
in  Richmond  and  Petersburg.  Close  upon  this 
disaster  came  news  of  the  fall  of  Vicksburg. 

On  July  3d  my  General  (this  was  before  he  re- 
signed his  commission)  was  in  Richmond  serving  on 
a  court-martial.  In  the  evening  he  called  upon 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Davis,  and  was  told  the  President 
was  not  receiving,  but  that  Mrs.  Davis  would  be 
glad  to  see  him.  The  weather  was  intensely  hot, 
and  my  husband  felt  he  must  not  inflict  a  long 
visit ;  but  when  he  rose  to  leave,  Mrs.  Davis  begged 
him  to  remain,  and  seemed  averse  from  being  left 
alone.  After  a  few  minutes  the  President  came  in, 
weary,  silent,  and  depressed.  The  news  from  Gettys- 
burg sufficiently  accounted  for  his  melancholy  aspect. 


250         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

Presently  a  dear  little  boy  entered  in  his  night-robe, 
and  kneeling  beside  his  father's  knee  repeated  his 
evening  prayer  of  thankfulness,  and  of  supplication 
for  God's  blessing  on  the  country.  The  President 
laid  his  hand  on  the  boy's  head  and  fervently  re- 
sponded, "  Amen."  The  scene  recurred  vividly, 
in  the  light  of  future  events,  to  my  husband's 
memory.  With  the  coming  day  came  the  news  of 
the  surrender  of  Vicksburg,  —  news  of  which  Mr. 
Davis  had  been  forewarned  the  evening  before, — 
and  already  the  Angel  of  Death  was  hovering  near, 
to  enfold  the  beautiful  boy  and  bear  him  away  from 
a  world  of  trouble. 

I  had  taken  my  young  family  to  a  watering  place  in 
the  county  of  Amelia,  and  there  a  few  homeless  women 
like  myself  were  spending  the  months  of  July  and 
August.  Everything  was  so  sad  there  was  no  heart 
in  any  one  for  gayety  of  any  kind ;  but  one  evening 
the  proprietor  proposed  that  the  ball  room  be 
lighted  and  a  solitary  fiddler,  "  Bozeman,"  —  who 
was  also  the  barber,  —  be  installed  in  the  musicians' 
seat  and  show  us  what  he  could  do.  Young  feet 
cannot  resist  a  good  waltz  or  polka,  and  the  floor 
was  soon  filled  with  care-forgetting  maidens  —  there 
were  no  men  except  the  proprietor  and  the  fiddler. 
Presently  a  telegram  was  received  by  the  former. 
We  all  huddled  together  under  the  chandelier  to 
read  it.  Vicksburg  had  fallen  !  The  gallant  Gen- 
eral Pemberton  had  been  starved  into  submission. 
Surely  and  swiftly  the  coil  was  tightening  around  us. 
Surely  and  swiftly  should  we,  too,  be  starved  into 
submission. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

A    HOMELESS    WANDERER 

HAVING  no  longer  a  home  of  my  own,  it 
was  decided  that  I  should  go  to  my  people 
in  Charlotte  County.  One  of  my  sons, 
Theo,  and  two  of  my  little  daughters  were  already 
there,  and  there  I  expected  to  remain  until  the  end 
of  the  war. 

But  repeated  attempts  to  reach  my  country  home 
resulted  in  failure.  Marauding  parties  and  guerillas 
were  flying  all  over  the  country.  There  had  been 
alarm  at  a  bridge  over  the  Staunton  near  the 
Oaks,  and  the  old  men  and  boys  had  driven  away 
the  enemy.  I  positively  could  not  venture  alone. 

So  it  was  decided  that  I  should  return  to  my  hus- 
band's old  district,  to  Petersburg,  and  there  find 
board  in  some  private  family. 

I  reached  Petersburg  in  the  autumn  and  wandered 
about  for  days  seeking  refuge  in  some  household. 
Many  of  my  old  friends  had  left  town.  Strangers 
and  refugees  had  rented  the  houses  of  some  of  these, 
while  others  were  filled  with  the  homeless  among 
their  own  kindred.  There  was  no  room  anywhere  for 
me,  and  my  small  purse  was  growing  so  slender  that 
I  became  anxious.  Finally  my  brother-in-law  offered 
me  an  overseer's  house  on  one  of  his  "  quarters." 

251 


252          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

The  small  dwelling  he  placed  at  my  disposal  was  to 
be  considered  temporary  only  ;  some  one  of  his  town 
houses  would  soon  be  vacant.  When  I  drove  out 
to  the  little  house,  I  found  it  hardly  better  than 
a  hovel.  We  entered  a  rude,  unplastered  kitchen, 
the  planks  of  the  floor  loose  and  wide  apart,  the 
earth  beneath  plainly  visible.  There  were  no  win- 
dows in  this  smoke-blackened  kitchen.  A  door 
opened  into  a  tiny  room  with  a  fireplace,  window,  and 
out-door  of  its  own ;  and  a  short  flight  of  stairs  led 
to  an  unplastered  attic,  so  that  the  little  apartment 
was  entered  by  two  doors  and  a  staircase.  It  was 
already  cold,  but  we  had  to  beat  a  hasty  retreat  and 
sit  outside  while  a  colored  boy  made  a  "  smudge  "  in 
the  house,  to  dislodge  the  wasps  that  had  tenanted 
it  for  many  months.  My  brother  had  lent  me  bed- 
ding for  the  overseer's  pine  bedstead  and  the  low 
trundle-bed  underneath.  The  latter,  when  drawn 
out  at  night,  left  no  room  for  us  to  stand.  When 
that  was  done,  we  had  to  go  to  bed.  For  furniture 
we  had  only  two  or  three  wooden  chairs  and  a  small 
table.  There  were  no  curtains,  neither  carpet  nor 
rugs,  no  china.  There  was  wood  at  the  woodpile, 
and  a  little  store  of  meal  and  rice,  with  a  small  bit  of 
bacon  in  the  overseer's  grimy  closet.  This  was  to 
be  my  winter  home. 

Petersburg  was  already  virtually  in  a  state  of  siege. 
Not  a  tithe  of  the  food  needed  for  its  army  of  refugees 
could  be  brought  to  the  city.  Our  highway,  the 
river,  was  filled,  except  for  a  short  distance,  with 
Federal  gunboats.  The  markets  had  long  been 
closed.  The  stores  of  provisions  had  been  ex- 


Patrick  Henry's  Granddaughter  253 

hausted,  so  that  a  grocery  could  offer  little  except  a 
barrel  or  two  of  molasses  made  from  the  domestic 
sorghum  sugar-cane  —  an  acrid  and  unwholesome 
sweet  used  instead  of  sugar  for  drink  with  water  or 
milk,  and  for  eating  with  bread.  The  little  boys  at 
once  began  to  keep  house.  They  valiantly  attacked 
the  woodpile,  and  found  favor  in  the  eyes  of  Mary 
and  the  man,  whom  I  never  knew  as  other  than 
"  Mary's  husband."  He  and  Mary  were  left  in 
charge  of  the  quarter  and  had  a  cabin  near  us. 

I  had  no  books,  no  newspapers,  no  means  of  com- 
municating with  the  outside  world ;  but  I  had  one 
neighbor,  Mrs.  Laighton,  a  daughter  of  Winston 
Henry,  granddaughter  of  Patrick  Henry.  She  lived 
near  me  with  her  husband  —  a  Northern  man.  Both 
were  very  cultivated,  very  poor,  very  kind.  Mrs. 
Laighton,  as  Lucy  Henry,  —  a  brilliant  young  girl, 
—  had  been  one  of  the  habitues  of  the  Oaks. 
We  had  much  in  common,  and  her  kind  heart  went 
out  in  love  and  pity  for  me. 

She  taught  me  many  expedients :  that  to  float 
tea  on  the  top  of  a  cup  of  hot  water  would  make 
it  "  go  farther  "  than  when  steeped  in  the  usual  way  ; 
also  that  the  herb,  "  life  everlasting,"  which  grew  in 
the  fields  would  make  excellent  yeast,  having  some- 
what the  property  of  hops  ;  and  that  the  best  substi- 
tute for  coffee  was  not  the  dried  cubes  of  sweet 
potato,  but  parched  corn  or  parched  meal,  making  a 
nourishing  drink,  not  unlike  the  "postum  "  of  to-day. 
And  Mrs.  Laighton  kept  me  a  "  living  soul "  in 
other  and  higher  ways.  She  reckoned  intellectual 
ability  the  greatest  of  God's  gifts,  raising  us  so  far 


254         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

above  the  petty  need  of  material  things  that  we  could 
live  in  spite  of  their  loss.  Her  talk  was  a  tonic  to 
me.  It  stimulated  me  to  play  my  part  with  courage, 
seeing  I  had  been  deemed  worthy,  by  the  God  who 
made  me,  to  suffer  in  this  sublime  struggle  for  lib- 
erty. She  was  as  truly  gifted  as  was  ever  her  illus- 
trious grandfather.  To  hear  her  was  to  believe,  so 
persuasive  and  convincing  was  her  eloquence. 

I  had  not  my  good  Eliza  Page  this  winter.  She 
had  fallen  ill.  I  had  a  stout  little  black  girl,  Julia, 
as  my  only  servant;  but  Mary  had  a  friend,  a 
"  corn-field  hand,"  "  Anarchy,"  who  managed  to 
help  me  at  odd  hours.  Mrs.  Laighton  sent  me 
every  morning  a  print  of  butter  as  large  as  a  silver 
dollar,  with  two  or  three  perfect  biscuits,  and  some- 
times a  bowl  of  persimmons  or  stewed  dried  peaches. 
She  had  a  cow,  and  churned  every  day,  making  her 
biscuits  of  the  buttermilk,  which  was  much  too  pre- 
cious to  drink. 

A  great  snow-storm  overtook  us  a  day  or  two 
before  Christmas.  My  little  boys  kindled  a  roaring 
fire  in  the  cold,  open  kitchen,  roasted  chestnuts, 
and  set  traps  for  the  rabbits  and  "  snowbirds " 
which  never  entered  them.  They  made  no  mur- 
mur at  the  bare  Christmas ;  they  were  loyal  little 
fellows  to  their  mother.  My  day  had  been  spent 
in  mending  their  garments,  —  making  them  was  a 
privilege  denied  me,  for  I  had  no  materials.  I  was 
not  "  all  unhappy  ! "  The  rosy  cheeks  at  my  fire- 
side consoled  me  for  my  privations,  and  something 
within  me  proudly  rebelled  against  weakness  or 
complaining. 


Strength  and  Peace  in  a  Dark  Hour      255 

The  flakes  were  falling  thickly  at  midnight,  when 
I  suddenly  became  very  ill.  I  sent  out  for  Mary's 
husband  and  bade  him  gallop  in  to  Petersburg, 
three  miles  distant,  and  fetch  me  Dr.  Withers.  I 
was  dreadfully  ill  when  he  arrived  —  and  as  he 
stood  at  the  foot  of  my  bed  I  said  to  him  :  "  It 
doesn't  matter  much  for  me,  Doctor !  But  my 
husband  will  be  grateful  if  you  keep  me  alive.'* 

When  I  awoke  from  a  long  sleep,  he  was  still  stand- 
ing at  the  foot  of  my  bed  where  I  had  left  him  —  it 
seemed  to  me  ages  ago  !  I  put  out  my  hand  and  it 
touched  a  little  warm  bundle  beside  me.  God  had 
given  me  a  dear  child ! 

The  doctor  spoke  to  me  gravely  and  most 
kindly.  "  I  must  leave  you  now,"  he  said,  "  and, 
alas  !  I  cannot  come  again.  There  are  so  many,  so 
many  sick.  Call  all  your  courage  to  your  aid. 
Remember  the  pioneer  women,  and  all  they  were 
able  to  survive.  This  woman,"  indicating  Anarchy, 
"  is  a  field-hand,  but  she  is  a  mother,  and  she  has 
agreed  to  help  you  during  the  Christmas  holidays  — 
her  own  time.  And  now,  God  bless  you,  and  good- 
by!" 

I  soon  slept  again  —  and  when  I  awoke  the  very 
Angel  of  Strength  and  Peace  had  descended  and 
abode  with  me.  I  resolved  to  prove  to  myself  that 
if  I  was  called  to  be  a  great  woman,  I  could  be  a 
great  woman.  Looking  at  me  from  my  bedside 
were  my  two  little  boys.  They  had  been  taken  the 
night  before  across  the  snow-laden  fields  to  my 
brother's  house,  but  had  risen  at  daybreak  and  had 
"  come  home  to  take  care  "  of  me  ! 


256          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

My  little  maid  Julia  left  me  Christmas  morning. 
She  said  it  was  too  lonesome,  and  her  "  mistis " 
always  let  her  choose  her  own  places.  I  engaged 
"Anarchy"  at  twenty-five  dollars  a  week  for  all  her 
nights.  But  her  hands,  knotted  by  work  in  the 
fields,  were  too  rough  to  touch  my  babe.  I  was 
propped  upon  pillows  and  dressed  her  myself,  some- 
times fainting  when  the  exertion  was  over. 

I  was  still  in  my  bed  three  weeks  afterward,  when 
one  of  my  boys  ran  in,  exclaiming  in  a  frightened 
voice,  "  Oh,  mamma,  an  old  gray  soldier  is  coming 
in!" 

He  stood  —  this  old  gray  soldier  —  and  looked 
at  me,  leaning  on  his  sabre. 

"  Is  this  the  reward  my  country  gives  me  ?  "  he 
said ;  and  not  until  he  spoke  did  I  recognize  my 
husband.  Turning  on  his  heel,  he  went  out,  and  I 
heard  him  call :  — 

"  John  !  John  !  Take  those  horses  into  town 
and  sell  them  !  Do  not  return  until  you  do  so  — 
sell  them  for  anything  !  Get  a  cart  and  bring  butter, 
eggs,  and  everything  you  can  find  for  Mrs.  Pryor's 
comfort." 

He  had  been  with  Fitz  Lee  on  that  dreadful  tramp 
through  the  snow  after  Averill.  He  had  suffered 
cold  and  hunger,  had  slept  on  the  ground  without 
shelter,  sharing  his  blanket  with  John.  He  had 
used  his  own  horses,  and  now  if  the  government 
needed  him  the  government  might  mount  him. 
He  had  no  furlough,  and  soon  reported  for  duty ; 
but  not  before  he  had  moved  us,  early  in  January, 
into  town — one  of  my  brother-in-law's  houses  hav- 


Petersburg  and  its  Comparative  Repose     257 

ing  been  vacated  at  the  beginning  of  the  year.  John 
knew  his  master  too  well  to  construe  him  literally, 
and  had  reserved  the  fine  gray,  Jubal  Early,  for  his 
use.  That  I  might  not  again  fall  into  the  sad 
plight  in  which  he  had  found  me,  he  purchased 
three  hundred  dollars  in  gold,  and  instructed  me  to 
prepare  a  girdle  to  be  worn  all  the  time  around  my 
waist,  concealed  by  my  gown.  The  coins  were 
quilted  in ;  each  had  a  separate  section  to  itself,  so 
that  with  scissors  I  might  extract  one  at  a  time  with- 
out disturbing  the  rest. 

From  the  beginning  of  the  war  to  its  last  year  Peters- 
burg had  remained  in  a  state  of  comparative  repose, 
broken  only  by  the  arrival  and  departure  of  the  troops 
passing  from  the  South  to  the  Army  of  Northern 
Virginia.  These,  as  we  have  said,  were  always  wel- 
comed, if  they  passed  through  by  day,  with  gifts  of 
flowers,  fruit,  and  more  substantial  refreshment. 

To  continue  this  greeting,  Petersburg  women 
denied  themselves  every  luxury.  The  tramp  of 
soldiers  was  a  familiar  sound  in  our  streets,  but  no 
hostile  footsteps  had  ever  resounded  there,  no  hostile 
gun  had  yet  been  fired  within  its  limits.  It  is  true 
the  low  muttering  of  distant  artillery  as  it  came  up 
the  James  and  the  Appomattox  from  the  field  of 
Big  Bethel  had  caught  the  ears  of  the  citizens,  and 
they  had  listened  with  heightened  interest  in  its 
louder  booming  as  it  told  of  Seven  Pines,  and  the 
seven  days'  struggle  around  Richmond,  just  twenty 
miles  away.  But  when  the  baffled  army  of  Mc- 
Clellan  retired  in  the  direction  of  Washington,  and 
General  Lee  moved  away  beyond  the  Potomac,  the 


258          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

old  men,  women,  and  children  (for  there  were  no 
men  left  capable  of  bearing  arms)  settled  down  to 
their  daily  avocations  —  and  daily  prayers  for  the 
dear  boys  at  the  front. 

Families  that  had  fled  from  Petersburg  at  the  time 
of  McClellan's  advance  upon  Richmond  had  now  re- 
turned. My  next-door  neighbors  were  Mr.  Thomas 
Branch  and  the  Rev.  Churchill  Gibson.  From  one 
of  my  windows  I  could  look  into  a  large  garden, 
where  the  workmen  were  busy  planting  seeds 
and  setting  long  rows  of  onions,  cabbage  plants, 
tomato  plants,  and  sticks  for  the  green  peas  just 
peeping  out  of  the  brown  earth.  Across  the  street 
lived  the  widow  of  the  Hon.  Richard  Kidder 
Meade,  with  her  accomplished  daughters,  Mary, 
Marion,  and  Julia.  These  were  delightful  neighbors. 
Lower  down  lived  the  Boilings,  —  parents  of  Tabb 
Boiling,  the  superb,  already  affianced  to  General 
Rooney  Lee.  Then  Mr.  and  Mrs.  William  Banis- 
ter, with  another  houseful  of  lovely  young  women, 
"  Mollie  "  and  "  Gussie  "  Banister  ;  and  their  cousin, 
Alice  Gregory,  waiting  until  the  cruel  war  should  be 
over  to  reward  handsome  Colonel  Arthur  Herbert. 
Alice's  own  home  was  just  outside  our  fortifications, 
and  was,  I  believe,  burned  when  Petersburg  was 
assaulted.  Beautiful  Patty  Hardee  was  another  of 
these  girls.  Helen  made  the  ninth  of  the  band  of 
Muses.  All  were  accomplished  in  music.  Marion's 
latest  fancy  was  significant, —  Gottschalk's  "Last 
Hope  ! "  Sweet  Alice  took  our  hearts  with  her 
touching  hymns,  giving  a  new  meaning  to  the 
simplest  words. 


Brave  and  Beautiful  Young  Girls         259 

Gussie  Banister,  the  youngest  of  all,  sang  "  Lo- 
rena"  and  "  Juanita  "  ;  and  Mattie  Paul,  who  often 
came  over  from  Richmond,  infused  an  intenser  tone 
of  sadness  with  Beethoven's  andantes  and  Chopin's 
"  Funeral  March."  None  of  the  gayety  of  Rich- 
mond, of  which  we  read  in  our  letters,  was  apparent 
in  Petersburg.  Too  many  of  her  sons  had  been 
slain  or  were  in  present  peril. 

"  What  friends  you  girls  are  !  "  I  said,  when  I  met 
them,  walking  together,  like  a  boarding  school. 

"  We  are  all  going  to  be  old  maids  together," 
said  one,  "and  so  we  are  getting  acquainted  with 
each  other." 

"  Speak  for  yourself,  John,"  said  Helen,  who  had 
become  the  fortunate  possessor  of  "  The  Courtship 
of  Miles  Standish  "  and  was  lending  "  Longfellow's 
last "  around  to  the  rest.  "  I  spoke  for  wjself,  you 
remember,"  she  added,  laughing. 

"  Well  !  it  will  be  no  disgrace  to  be  an  old  maid," 
said  another.  "  We  can  always  swear  our  going-to- 
be-husband  was  killed  in  the  war."  And  then  a 
wistful  look  passed  over  the  young  faces  as  each  one 
remembered  some  absent  lover. 

The  camp-fire  of  my  own  family  brigade  was  now 
lighted  in  the  kitchen,  where  the  hero,  John,  who 
had  been  left  to  take  care  of  me,  popped  corn  for 
my  little  boys  and  held  them  with  stories  of  Fitz 
Lee's  pursuit  of  Averill. 

"  Tell  us,  John,"  implored  his  audience,  u  tell  us 
every  bit  of  it.  Begin  at  Winchester." 

"No,"  said  John.  "You'll  tell  your  ma,  and 
then  she  won't  sleep  a  wink  to-night." 


260         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

"  She  doesn't  sleep  anyway,  John  !  When  we 
wake  up,  she's  always  sitting  by  the  window,  look- 
ing out  at  the  stars." 

"  Co'se,  if  that's  the  case,  here  goes.  Gen'al  Lee  had 
five  thousand  troopers,  an'  they  marched  from  Win- 
chester to  Salem.  We  hadn't  a  tent,  an'  no  rations 
wuth  talkin'  about,  an'  it  rained  an'  hailed  an'  sleeted 
most  every  step  o'  the  way.  Your  pa  never  took 
off  his  boots  for  two  solid  weeks,  an*  they  were  full 
of  water  all  the  time,  an'  the  icicles  hung  from  his 
long  hair.  We  drew  up  in  line  at  the  White  Sul- 
phur Springs  an'  dard  Averill  to  fight  us  —  but  he 
slunk  away  in  the  night.  I  cert'inly  was  sorry  for 
Marse  Roger  at  the  White  Sulphur.  He  went  up 
into  the  po'ch  of  one  of  the  little  cottages  an'  sat 
down  thinkin'  an'  thinkin'.  c  Are  you  sick,  Marse 
Roger  ? '  I  asked  him.  c  No,  John,'  he  said,  c  only 
a  little  homesick,  to  think  of  the  happy  times  we 
used  to  spend  here  —  and  our  fathers  and  mothers 
before  us!'  cBut  we  done  drive  'im  away!'  I  say 
to  him,  an'  he  got  up  and  said,  c  Do  you  think  so, 
John  ? '  Anyway,  Averill  didn't  git  a  chance  to 
sleep  in  one  of  them  cottages,  nor  yet  to  burn  it ! 
Ther'  was  a  hospital  thar'  then." 

"  Where  did  you  sleep  ?  "  the  boys  asked. 

"  Who,  me  ?  I  slep'  every  night  o'  my  life  under 
the  same  blanket  with  your  pa,  I  did.  I  don'  care 
how  tired  he  was,  he  never  slep'  so  sound  he  couldn't 
hear  the  snorin'.  c  Git  up,  John,'  he  would  say, 
( tell  that  man  snorin'  that  he's  burninY '  John 
laughed  at  the  reminiscence.  "  I've  scared  many  a 
good  soldier  that  way,  an'  made  him  turn  over  — 


John  tells  of  Averill's  Raid  261 

when  the  fightin*  an'  shootin'  couldn't  move 
him." 

"  But  you  did  retreat  after  all,  didn't  you,  John  ?  " 

"  Retreat !  Retreat  nothin'  !  Gen'al  Lee  got  so 
he  didn'  care  to  ketch  that  scalawag  Yankee.  He 
warn'  wuth  ketchin'.  We  got  pris'ners  enough  now 
an'  to  spar.  Gen'al  Lee  come  home  cos  he  didn' 
have  no  use  for  Averill.  He  drove  him  away, 
though.  He  sholy  did  !  " 

John  was  installed  as  cook  and  commissary- 
general.  He  had  no  material  except  flour,  rice,  peas, 
and  dried  apples,  such  grease  or  "  shortening "  as 
he  could  extract  from  bones  he  purchased  of  the 
quartermaster,  and  sorghum  molasses.  He  made 
yeast  of  "  life  everlasting "  I  brought  from  the 
country,  —  and  he  gave  us  waffles  and  pancakes. 
John's  pancakes,  compared  with  the  ordinary  article, 
were  as  the  fleecy  cloud  to  the  dull,  heavy  clod  be- 
neath. Butter  could  be  had  at  eight  dollars  a  pound  ; 
meat  was  four  and  five  dollars  a  pound  —  prices  we 
learned  very  soon  afterward  to  regard  as  extremely 
cheap ;  bargains,  indeed,  of  the  first  water.  From 
Agnes's  letters  I  have  reason  to  suppose  that  Peters- 
burg suffered  more  from  scarcity  than  did  Rich- 
mond. There,  dinners  were  given  by  the  members 
of  the  Cabinet,  and  wine  was  served  as  of  old.  In 
Petersburg  we  had  already  entered  upon  our  long 
season  of  want.  The  town  was  drained  by  its 
generous  gifts  to  the  army ;  regiments  were  con- 
stantly passing,  and  none  ever  departed  without  the 
offer  of  refreshment. 

We  heard  no  complaints  from  our  soldier  boys, 


262         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

still  in  their  winter  quarters.     But  a  letter  to  the 
army  from  General  Lee  filled  our  hearts  with  anxiety. 

"HEADQUARTERS    ARMY    OF    NORTHERN    VIRGINIA, 

"January  22,  1864. 

"  GENERAL  ORDERS  No.  7.  —  The  commanding  general 
considers  it  due  to  the  army  to  state  that  the  temporary 
reduction  of  rations  has  been  caused  by  circumstances 
beyond  the  control  of  those  charged  with  its  support.  Its 
welfare  and  comfort  are  the  objects  of  his  constant  and 
earnest  solicitude  and  no  effort  has  been  spared  to  provide 
for  its  wants.  It  is  hoped  that  the  exertions  now  being 
made  will  render  the  necessity  but  of  short  duration,  but  the 
history  of  the  army  has  shown  that  the  country  can  require 
no  sacrifice  too  great  for  its  patriotic  devotion. 

u  Soldiers  !  you  tread,  with  no  unequal  steps,  the  road  by 
which  your  fathers  marched  through  suffering,  privation, 
and  blood  to  independence. 

"  Continue  to  emulate  in  the  future,  as  you  have  in  the 
past,  their  valor  in  arms,  their  patient  endurance  of  hard- 
ships, their  high  resolve  to  be  free,  which  no  trial  could 
shake,  no  bribe  seduce,  no  danger  appall ;  and  be  assured 
that  the  just  God  who  crowned  their  efforts  with  success 
will,  in  His  own  good  time,  send  down  His  blessings  upon 
yours. 

«  [Signed]  R.  E.  LEE,  General." 

Calm,  strong,  fatherly  words  !  They  deserve  to 
be  printed  in  letters  of  gold.  They  still  have  power 
to  thrill  the  souls  of  the  children  of  the  fathers  who 
marched  through  suffering,  privation,  and  blood  to 
independence,  —  children  who  wait,  still  wait,  for 
the  fulfilment  of  his  promise  that  God  will  in  His 
own  good  time  send  down  His  blessing  upon  them. 


A  Narration  of  the  Condition  of  Richmond     263 

On  January  the  joth  Agnes  wrote  from  Rich- 
mond :  — 

"  How  can  you  be  even  dreaming  of  new  cups  and 
saucers  ?  Mend  your  old  ones,  my  dear,  with  white  lead. 
That  is  what  we  are  doing  here ;  and  when  the  cup  is 
very  much  broken,  the  triangular,  rectangular,  and  other 
'  angular '  lines  of  white  give  it  quite  a  Japanesque  effect. 
There  is  not  a  bit  of  china  for  sale  in  the  capital  of  the 
Confederacy.  A  forlorn  little  chipped  set  —  twelve  odd 
pieces  —  sold  last  week  at  auction  for  $200  —  and  as 
to  hats  and  bonnets  !  We  are  washing  the  old  ones  and 
plaiting  straw  for  the  new.  I'll  send  you  a  package  of  straw 
I  gleaned  and  dyed  for  you  last  summer.  Did  I  tell  you 
about  that  straw  ?  I  asked  my  host  at  the  farmhouse  to 
give  me  a  few  sheaves,  but  he  shook  his  head  and  opined 
it  would  be  '  sinful  in  these  hard  times  to  take  good  vittles 
and  convert  it  into  hats.'  I  could  not  see  clearly  that  straw 
came  under  the  generic  term  'vittles  '  —  unless  indeed  the 
straw  fed  the  animal  that  fed  the  soldier.  However,  I 
meekly  borrowed  a  sunbonnet  and  gleaned  my  straw. 
Half  of  it  I  popped  into  the  kettle  of  boiling  black  dye 
behind  the  kitchen,  —  when  the  lady  of  the  manor  was 
looking  another  way, —  and  we  will  mix  the  black  and 
white  for  the  boys'  hats.  But  mark  the  quick  and  sure 
grinding  of  the  mills  of  the  gods.  After  the  wheat  was 
all  stacked  there  came  a  mighty  rain  with  fog  and  warm 
mist.  One  day  my  host  brought  in  what  seemed  to  be  a 
feathery  bouquet  of  delicate  green.  It  was  a  bunch  of 
wheat,  every  grain  of  which  had  sprouted.  He  had  lost 
his  crop  ! 

u  President  and  Mrs.  Davis  gave  a  large  reception  last 
week,  and  all  the  ladies  looked  positively  gorgeous.  Mrs. 
Davis  is  in  mourning  for  her  father.  We  should  not 
expect  suppers  in  these  times,  but  we  do  have  them! 


264         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

Champagne  is  $350  a  dozen,  but  we  sometimes  have 
champagne!  The  confectioners  charge  $15  for  a  cake, 
but  we  have  cake.  My  flounced  gray  silk  is  behaving 
admirably,  but  I  am  afraid  my  Washington  friends  remem- 
ber it  as  an  old  acquaintance.  I  never  go  out  without 
meeting  them.  I  have  seen  Dr.  Garnett  and  Judge  Scar- 
borough and  Mr.  Dimitri  on  the  street,  and  often  meet 
Mr.  Hunter,  running  about,  in  his  enthusiasm,  like  a  boy. 
But  what  do  you  think  ?  I  never  could  bear  that  Lord 
Lyons,  with  his  red  face  and  small  eyes  like  ferrets' ;  and 
now  we  have  reason  to  suppose  that  England  would  have 
recognized  us  but  for  his  animosity  against  us.  He  says 
'  the  Confederacy  is  on  its  last  legs.'  We  have  heard  from 
dear  old  Dudley  Mann ;  but  of  course  he  can  do  nothing 
for  us  in  England,  and  he  had  as  well  come  home  and  go 
with  me  to  receptions.  Mrs.  Davis  receives  every  Tues- 
day, and  Mr.  Mann  is  a  better  squire  of  dames  than 
he  is  a  diplomat." 

My  Petersburg  beauties  were  all  wearing  hats  of 
their  own  manufacture,  the  favorite  style  being  the 
Alpine  with  a  pointed  crown.  For  trimming,  very 
soft  and  lovely  flowers  were  made  of  feathers,  the 
delicate  white  feather  with  a  tuft  of  fleecy  marabout 
at  its  stem.  The  marabout  tuft  would  be  carefully 
drawn  off,  to  be  made  into  swan's-down  trimming. 
A  wire  was  prepared  and  covered  with  green  paper 
for  a  stem,  a  little  ball  of  wax  fastened  on  the  end, 
and  covered  with  a  tiny  tuft  of  the  down  for  a 
centre,  and  around  this  the  feathers  were  stuck  — 
with  incurving  petals  for  apple  blossoms  and  half- 
open  roses,  —  and  reversed  for  camellias.  Neatly 
trimmed  and  suitably  tinted,  these  flowers  were  hand- 


Straits  of  Petersburg  Girls  265 

some  enough  for  anybody,  and  were  in  great  demand. 
Cocks*  plumes  were  also  used  on  hats,  iridescent, 
and  needing  no  coloring.  With  the  downy  breast 
of  a  goose  which  came  into  my  possession  I  essayed 
the  making  of  a  powder-puff  for  my  baby,  but  alas  ! 
the  oil  in  the  cuticle  proved  a  perennial  spring  which 
could  not  be  dried  up  by  soda  or  sunning,  and  finally 
I  saw  my  powder-puff  disappearing  in  a  hole,  drawn 
downward  by  a  vigorous  and  hungry  rat. 

The  young  girls  who  visited  me  never  complained 
of  their  privations  in  the  matter  of  food,  but  they 
sorely  grieved  over  their  shabby  wardrobes. 

"  I  really  think,"  said  one,  "  if  we  can  only  get 
along  until  we  can  wear  white  waists,  we  shall  do  very 
well.  Every  time  a  white  waist  is  washed  it's  made 
new  —  but  these  old  flannel  sacks  —  ugh  !" 

One  day  Mary  Meade  made  me  a  visit.  Always 
beautiful,  her  face  wore  on  this  afternoon  a  seraphic, 
beatific  expression. 

"  Tell  me,  dear,"  I  said,  "  all  about  it."  I  sup- 
posed she  had  heard  her  lover  had  been  promoted 
or  was  coming  home  on  a  furlough. 

She  held  up  her  two  hands.  "It's  just  these 
gloves ! "  said  Mary.  cc  I  can't  help  it.  They 
make  me  perfectly  happy !  They  have  just  come 
through  the  blockade." 

The  butcher  shops  were  closed,  and  many  of  the 
dry-goods  stores  ;  but  somebody  had  ordered  a  large 
quantity  of  narrow  crimson  woollen  braid,  and  had 
failed  to  accept  it.  We  seized  upon  it.  Every  one 
of  us  had  garments  embroidered  with  it  —  in  scrolls, 
Maltese  crosses,  undulating  lines,  leaves ;  all  of 


266         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

which  goes  to  prove  that  the  desire  for  ornament 
is  an  instinct  of  our  nature,  outliving  the  grosser 
affections  for  the  good  things  of  the  table.  The 
consciousness  of  being  well  dressed,  we  have  been 
told,  will  afford  a  peace  of  mind  far  exceeding  any- 
thing to  be  derived  from  the  comforts  of  religion. 

It  had  not  been  many  years  since  every  Virginia 
farm  owned  a  house  for  a  great  cumbrous  loom, 
with  beams  supported  against  the  ceiling.  The 
door  of  the  loom-house  was  again  opened,  and  the 
weaver  installed  upon  her  high  bench.  Cotton 
cloth  was  woven  and  dyed  yellow  with  butternut, 
black  with  walnut-bark,  gray  with  willow.  A  mor- 
dant to  "  set  the  dye  "  was  unattainable  —  but  at 
last  rusty  iron,  nails,  old  horseshoes,  old  clamps 
and  hinges,  were  found  to  be  effective.  Every  atom 
of  black  silk  was  a  treasure.  It  was  shredded  to 
mix  with  the  cotton  before  carding.  Even  now  the 
cells  of  my  brain  waken  at  the  sight  of  a  bundle  of 
old  black  silk,  and  my  fingers  would  fain  respond. 

Pins  became  scarce.  People  walked  about  with 
downcast  eyes;  they  were  looking  for  pins!  Thorns 
were  gathered  and  dried  to  use  as  pins.  Dentists' 
gold  soon  disappeared.  The  generation  succeeding 
the  war  period  had  not  good  teeth.  -  Anaesthetics  — 
morphine,  chloroform,  opium  —  were  contraband  of 
war.  This  was  our  great  grief.  Our  soldier  boys, 
who  had  done  nothing  to  bring  the  war  upon  the 
country,  must  suffer  every  pang  that  followed  the 
disasters  of  battle.  The  United  States  gave  artifi- 
cial limbs  to  its  maimed  soldiers.  Ours  had  only 
their  crutches,  and  these  of  rude  home  manufacture. 


Famine  in  Petersburg  267 

The  blockade-running,  for  which  our  women  were 
so  much  blamed,  was  often  undertaken  to  bring 
morphine  and  medicine  to  our  hospitals.  The 
fashions  of  the  day  included  a  small  round  cushion 
worn  at  the  back  of  a  lady's  belt,  to  lift  the  heavy 
hoop  and  many  petticoats  then  in  vogue.  It  was 
called  "  a  bishop,"  and  was  made  of  silk.  These 
were  brought  home  from  "  a  visit  to  friends  at  the 
North  "  filled  with  quinine  and  morphine.  They 
were  examined  at  the  frontier  by  a  long  pin  stuck 
through  them.  If  the  pin  met  no  resistance,  they 
were  allowed  to  pass. 

The  famine  moved  on  apace,  but  its  twin  sister, 
fever,  never  visited  us.  Never  had  Petersburg  been 
so  healthy.  No  garbage  was  decaying  in  the  streets. 
Every  particle  of  animal  or  vegetable  food  was  con- 
sumed, and  the  streets  were  clean.  Flocks  of  pig- 
eons would  follow  the  children  who  were  eating 
bread  or  crackers.  Finally  the  pigeons  vanished 
having  been  themselves  eaten.  Rats  and  mice  dis- 
appeared. The  poor  cats  staggered  about  the  streets, 
and  began  to  die  of  hunger.  At  times  meal  was  the 
only  article  attainable  except  by  the  rich.  An  ounce 
of  meat  daily  was  considered  an  abundant  ration  for 
each  member  of  the  family.  To  keep  food  of  any 
kind  was  impossible  —  cows,  pigs,  bacon,  flour,  every- 
thing, was  stolen,  and  even  sitting  hens  were  taken 
from  the  nest. 

In  the  presence  of  such  facts  as  these  General  Lee 
was  able  to  report  that  nearly  every  regiment  in  his 
army  had  reenlisted  —  and  for  the  war  !  And  very 
soon  he  also  reported  that  the  army  was  out  of  meat 


268          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

and  had  but  one  day's  rations  of  bread.  One  of  our 
papers  copied  the  following  from  the  Mobile  Adver- 
tiser :  — 

"  In  General  Lee's  tent  meat  is  eaten  but  twice  a  week, 
the  General  not  allowing  it  oftener,  because  he  believes  in- 
dulgence in  meat  to  be  criminal  in  the  present  straitened 
condition  of  the  country.  His  ordinary  dinner  consists  of 
a  head  of  cabbage  boiled  in  salt  water,  and  a  pone  of  corn 
bread.  Having  invited  a  number  of  gentlemen  to  dine  with 
him,  General  Lee,  in  a  fit  of  extravagance,  ordered  a  sump- 
tuous repast  of  bacon  and  cabbage.  The  dinner  was  served, 
and  behold,  a  great  pile  of  cabbage  and  a  bit  of  bacon,  or 
'  middling/  about  four  inches  long  and  two  inches  across. 
The  guests,  with  commendable  politeness,  unanimously  de- 
clined the  bacon,  and  it  remained  in  the  dish  untouched. 
Next  day  General  Lee,  remembering  the  delicate  titbit 
which  had  been  so  providentially  preserved,  ordered  his 
servant  to  bring  that  '  middling.'  The  man  hesitated, 
scratched  his  head,  and  finally  owned  up  :  — 

"  '  Marse  Robert  —  de  fac'  is  —  dat  ar  middlin*  was 
borrowed  middlin'.  We-all  didn'  have  no  middlin*.  I 
done  paid  it  back  to  de  place  whar  I  got  it  fum.' 

"  General  Lee  heaved  a  sigh  of  deepest  disappointment, 
and  pitched  into  the  cabbage." 

No  man  had  ever  lived  in  more  comfort,  nor 
was  more  surrounded  by  the  accessories  and  appoint- 
ments of  luxury  and  refinement.  His  aide,  Colonel 
Walter  Taylor,  has  written  me :  — 

u  During  the  time  that  General  Lee  was  in  service  he 
manifested  that  complete  self-abnegation  and  dislike  of 
parade  and  ceremony  which  became  characteristic  of  him. 
Accompanied  originally  by  a  staff  of  but  two  persons,  and, 


General  Lee's  Service  of  Plate  269 

after  the  death  of  Colonel  Washington,  with  but  one  aide- 
de-camp,  with  no  escort  or  body-guard,  no  couriers  or 
guides,  he  made  the  campaign  under  altogether  unostenta- 
tious and  really  uncomfortable  circumstances.  One  solitary 
tent  constituted  his  headquarters  camp ;  this  served  for  the 
General  and  his  aide  ;  and  when  visitors  were  entertained, 
as  actually  occurred,  the  General  shared  his  blanket  with  his 
aide,  turning  over  those  of  the  latter  to  his  guest.  His  din- 
ner service  was  of  tin,  —  tin  plates,  tin  cups,  tin  bowls, 
everything  of  tin,  —  and  consequently  indestructible  ;  and 
to  the  annoyance  and  disgust  of  the  subordinates  who 
sighed  for  porcelain  could  not  or  would  not  be  lost ;  in- 
deed, with  the  help  of  occasional  additions,  this  tin  furniture 
continued  to  do  service  for  several  campaigns ;  and  it  was 
only  in  the  last  year  of  the  war,  while  the  army  was  around 
Petersburg,  that  a  set  of  china  was  surreptitiously  introduced 
into  the  baggage  of  the  headquarters  of  the  army.  This 
displaced  for  a  time  the  chaste  and  elaborate  plate ;  but  on 
resuming  c  light  marching  order '  at  the  time  of  the  evacua- 
tion of  Richmond  and  Petersburg,  the  china,  which  had 
been  borrowed  by  the  staff,  was  returned ;  the  tins  were 
again  produced,  and  did  good  service  until  the  surrender  of 
the  army,  when  they  passed  into  the  hands  of  individuals 
who  now  preserve  them  as  mementos  of  the  greatest  com- 
mander in  the  great  war." 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

THE    SIEGE    OF    PETERSBURG 

JUNE  9  will  always  be  a  sacred  day  to  the 
citizens  of  Petersburg.  Every  man  capable 
of  bearing  arms  had  enlisted  early  in  the  ser- 
vice of  the  Southern  Confederacy.  They  felt  that 
much  was  expected  of  them.  Petersburg  had  be- 
haved gallantly  in  1776,  and  had  been  the  "  Cockade 
City  "in  1812.  For  the  first  three  years  of  the  war, 
as  we  have  seen,  no  gun  was  fired  near  her  gates. 
Only  old  men,  women,  and  children  were  left  in  the 
town.  The  maidens  bore  their  denied  lives  with 
cheerfulness,  sustained  and  encouraged  by  the  stead- 
fast and  serene  bearing  of  their  elders.  Everybody 
worked  for  the  soldiers  and  assembled  every  after- 
noon to  pray  for  them.  The  city  was  almost  as 
quiet  as  Blandford,  her  sister  city  of  the  dead,  where 
the  old  Elands,  Boilings,  and  Poythresses  slept  in 
perfect  peace. 

True,  Petersburg,  like  Richmond,  had  her  day  of 
feverish  excitement,  known  in  Confederate  history 
as  "  Pawnee  Sunday,"  when  both  cities  had  been 
menaced  by  an  ironclad.  Early  in  the  morning  a 
telegraph  operator  had  relieved  a  dull  hour  by  inter- 
viewing his  colleague  at  City  Point,  "Any  danger 
from  the  Pawnee  ? "  receiving  as  answer,  "  The 

270 


"Pawnee  Sunday"  271 

Pawnee  is  coming  up  the  Appomattox."  The  town 
was  wild.  Everything  valuable  was  hidden  away, 
and  the  militia  was  drawn  up,  the  lads  of  twelve  and 
fourteen  loading  their  hunting  pieces  and  rallying 
to  the  town  hall.  Time  having  been  allowed  for 
any  reasonable,  well-conducted  man-of-war  to  steam 
twelve  miles,  the  telegraph  operator,  sorely  pressed 
by  questions,  again  interrogated  his  City  Point  friend. 
"What's  become  of  the  Pawnee?  She  isn't  here 
yet/'  The  irate  answer  spun  over  the  line  :  "  You 

—  fool !   I  said  the  Pawnee  is  not  coming  up   the 
river."     Everything  fell  flat  at  once.     There  was  an 
avowed  sense  of  disappointment  at  the  loss  of  an 
opportunity  which  might  not  come  again.     The  dear 
women  —  the  best  I  have  ever  known  in  any  land 

—  resumed  their  gentle  ministrations,  working  much 
for  the  hospitals,  and  supplementing  with  culinary 
skill  many  deficiencies  in  material.      But  the  men 
chafed.      The  veterans   had  felt  the  blood  leap  in 
their  veins  with  the  fire  of  youth  ;  the  boys  longed 
for  the  fray ;   the  physician,  tied  to  his  humdrum 
routine,  yearned  for  the  larger  sphere  in  the  field. 
"  The  dearest  sacrifice  a  man  can  make  to  his  coun- 
try is  his  ambition." 

The  Pawnee  incident  was  a  fortunate  one  for  the 
city,  for  it  awakened  the  authorities  to  the  necessity 
of  preparing  against  surprise.  The  old,  exempt 
citizens  were  formed  into  companies  for  home  de- 
fence, and  a  breastwork  was  prepared  commanding 
a  road,  "  particularly  interesting,"  says  one  of  the 
survivors,  "  because  it  opened  to  deserving  Peters- 
burgers  the  beatific  vision  of  Sussex  hams  and  South- 


272          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

ampton  whiskey ;  "  for  at  that  moment  the  dreaded 
foe  was  the  wolf  already  at  the  door,  rather  than  the 
possible  thunderbolt. 

When  General  Butler,  in  June,  1864,  commenced 
his  advance  against  Richmond,  which  was  intended 
as  a  cooperative  movement  with  General  Grant  to 
accomplish  what  was  done  the  following  spring,  he 
sent  General  Kautz  on  June  9  to  make  a  cavalry 
attack  on  Petersburg,  twenty  miles  below  Richmond. 
The  city,  as  I  have  said,  was  almost  defenceless. 
There  had  been  much  strategy,  —  marching  and 
countermarching,  —  too  long  a  story  to  tell  here ; 
but  one  thing  at  least  was  accomplished,  as  one  of 
the  Confederate  colonels  pithily  remarked,  "  What- 
ever blunders  were  made,  the  citizens  and  militia 
had  been  trotted  out  in  the  direction  of  the  enemy 
at  least."  Kautz's  superb  cavalry  appeared  suddenly, 
was  met  by  the  old  men  and  boys  of  Petersburg,  and 
was  repulsed.  Colonel  Fletcher  Archer  commanded 
the  militiamen.  Forewarned  only  a  few  minutes  be- 
fore the  charge,  he  hastily  formed  his  men  into  line. 
He  says  :  "  And  what  a  line  !  In  number  scarcely 
more  than  sufficient  to  constitute  a  single  company, 
in  dress  nothing  to  distinguish  them  from  citizens 
pursuing  the  ordinary  avocations  of  life,  in  age  many 
of  them  silvered  over  with  the  frosts  of  advancing 
years,  while  others  could  scarcely  boast  of  the  down 
upon  the  cheek  of  youth ;  in  arms  and  accoutre- 
ments such  as  an  impoverished  government  could 
afford  them.  But  there  was  that  in  their  situation 
which  lifted  them  above  the  ordinary  rules  of  criti- 
cism. They  stood  there,  not  as  mercenaries  who, 


The  Fight  of  June  9th  273 

having  enlisted  on  account  of  profit,  required  the 
strong  arm  of  military  law  to  keep  them  to  their 
post,  nor  as  devotees  of  ambition  craving  a  place  in 
the  delusive  pages  of  history,  but  they  stood  as  a 
band  of  patriots  whose  homes  were  imperilled  and 
whose  loved  ones  were  in  danger  of  falling  into  the 
hands  of  an  untried  foe.  As  they  stood  in  line  be- 
fore me  I  could  see  them  glancing  back  at  their  own 
dwellings  under  the  sun  of  a  lovely  June  morning. 
When  I  addressed  them  in  a  few  words  of  encour- 
agement, they  listened  with  gravity  and  a  full  appre- 
ciation of  their  situation.  There  was  no  excitement, 
no  shout,  only  calm  resolution." 

Thus  their  commander.  What  did  the  men  them- 
selves feel  ?  One  of  them  wrote :  "  We  had  not  long 
to  wait.  A  cloud  of  dust  in  our  front  told  of  the 
hurried  advance  of  cavalry,  and  the  next  moment 
the  glitter  of  spur  and  scabbard  revealed  a  long  line 
of  horsemen  half  a  mile  in  front  of  us.  Oh,  how 
we  missed  our  cannon  !  Our  venerable  muskets 
were  not  worth  a  tinker's  imprecation  at  longer 
range  than  a  hundred  yards,  and  we  were  compelled 
perforce  to  watch  the  preparations  for  our  slaughter, 
much  after  the  fashion  that  a  rational  turtle  may  be 
presumed  to  contemplate  the  preliminaries  of  an 
aldermanic  dinner." 

These  were  the  men  who  saved  the  city.  It  was 
in  honor  of  them  that  the  women  and  children 
marched  through  dust  and  heat  on  June  9,  1866, 
to  lay  garlands  of  flowers  upon  their  humble  graves, 
and  by  their  pious  action  to  inaugurate  the  beautiful 
custom,  which  is  now  observed  all  over  the  country, 


274         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

of  honoring  the  dead  who  fell  in  the  Civil  War.  No 
lovelier  day  ever  dawned  than  June  9,  1864.  The 
magnolia  grandiflora  was  in  full  flower,  bee-haunted 
honey-locusts  perfumed  the  warm  air,  almost  extin- 
guishing the  peachy  odor  of  the  microphylla  roses, 
graceful  garlands  of  jessamine  hung  over  the  trel- 
lised  front  porches.  Almost  the  first  intimation 
that  the  town  received  of  its  great  peril  was  the 
impetuous  dash  through  the  streets  of  the  Confeder- 
ate artillery.  The  morning  was  so  sweet  and  bright 
that  the  women  and  little  children  were  abroad  in 
the  streets,  on  their  way  to  market,  or  on  errands 
to  the  shops,  or  to  visit  with  fruit  and  flowers  the 
old  and  sick  among  their  friends.  Lossie  Hill,  the 
daintiest  of  dainty  maidens,  was  picking  her  leisurely 
way  in  the  dusty  street,  going  to  spend  the  morning 
with  old  Mrs.  Mertens,  when  she  heard  the  frantic 
shout :  "  Get  out  of  the  way  !  Damn  the  women  ! 
Run  over  them  if  they  won't  get  out  of  the  way." 
This  was  the  morning  greeting  of  the  politest  of 
gentlemen,  —  Captain  Graham,  —  whose  guns  were 
thundering  down  the  street  to  the  rescue  of  the 
slender  line  at  the  front.  As  fast  as  the  dread  news 
reached  the  men  exempt  from  duty,  who  were  en- 
gaged in  their  various  professions  and  vocations, 
every  one  dropped  his  business  and  rushed  to  the 
firing  line.  The  oldest  men  were  as  ardent  as  the 
youngest.  One  man,  a  druggist,  began,  while  pull- 
ing on  his  accoutrements,  to  give  directions  to  a 
venerable  clerk  whom  he  expected  to  dispense  drugs 
in  his  absence.  "  Now/'  said  the  old  man,  "  if  you 
want  anything  done  at  home  you  must  talk  to  some- 


Courage  and  Patriotism  of  William  Banister     275 

body  else  !  I  am  going  to  the  front !  I'm  just  like 
General  Lee.  I  should  be  glad  if  these  fellows  would 
go  back  to  their  homes  and  let  us  alone,  but  if  they 
won't  they  must  be  made  to,  that's  all."  With  their 
arms  around  their  father,  pretty  Molly  and  Gussie 
Banister  implored  him  not  to  go  forth.  He  was 
president  of  the  bank,  he  was  frail  and  not  young. 
cc  The  duty  of  every  man  lies  yonder,"  said  he, 
pointing  to  the  puffs  of  smoke  at  the  gates  of  the 
town,  and  shouldering  his  musket  he  marched  away. 

Mr.  William  C.  Banister  was  a  cultivated,  Chris- 
tian gentleman,  one  of  Petersburg's  most  esteemed 
and  beloved  citizens.  His  widow  and  sweet  daugh- 
ters received  him  —  dead  —  on  the  evening  of  the 
battle.  Molly  Banister,  one  of  the  dear  girls  who 
blessed  my  life  in  those  anxious  days,  has  told  the 
story  of  her  martyred  father's  patriotic  fervor :  — 

"  My  father  had  been  on  duty  out  on  the  lines 
on  previous  occasions,  always  against  the  entreaty 
of  the  members  of  his  family.  We  thought  his 
infirmity,  deafness,  ought  to  excuse  him.  Besides 
this,  he  was  a  bank  officer  and  over  military  age. 
When  the  court-house  bell,  on  the  morning  of  the 
9th  of  June,  sounded  the  alarm,  he  was  at  his  place 
of  business,  in  the  old  Exchange  Bank,  and  we 
hoped  he  would  not  hear  it.  He  got  information, 
however,  of  the  condition  of  things,  came  at  once 
home,  and  informed  us  of  his  purpose  to  go  out  to 
the  lines.  My  mother  and  I  besought  him  not  to 
go,  urging  that  he  could  not  hear  the  orders. 

"'If  I  can't  hear/  he  said,  CI  can  fight —  I  can  fire 
a  gun.  This  is  no  time  for  any  one  to  stand  back. 


276          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

Every  man  that  can  shoulder  a  musket  must  fight. 
The  enemy  are  now  right  upon  us/ 

"  Bidding  us  good-by  he  left  the  house.  On 
the  street,  near  our  gate,  was  a  man,  just  from  the 
lines.  Addressing  him,  my  father  said,  pointing  to 
the  lines :  — 

" c  My  friend,  you  are  needed  in  this  direction/ 

"c  I  am  absent  on  leave/  said  the  man. 

"  l  No  leave/  replied  my  father,  c  should  keep 
you  on  such  an  occasion  as  this.  Every  man 
should  fight  now ! ' 

"  I  have  been  informed  that  as  he  came  up  from 
the  bank  he  urged  in  the  same  way  all  whom  he 
met,  capable,  as  he  thought,  of  bearing  arms." 

Patty  Hardee's  father,  another  man  past  age  for 
military  service,  was  one  of  the  first  to  report  for 
duty,  and  among  the  first  to  be  borne,  dead,  to  his 
daughter. 

Robert  Martin,  also  exempt,  and  the  father  of 
an  adoring  family,  immediately  joined  the  ranks. 
Almost  totally  deaf,  he  could  hear  no  orders,  and 
continued  to  load  his  gun  after  the  order  to  cease 
firing  was  given  and  the  company  had  begun  to  move 
off.  A  comrade  ran  up,  put  his  lips  to  his  ear,  and 
remonstrated.  "Stop  firing !"  exclaimed  the  vet- 
eran with  disgust.  "  Orders  ?  I  haven't  heard  any 
orders  to  stop  firing,"  and  he  continued  to  advance. 
As  Nelson  at  Copenhagen,  who,  when  told  that  he 
had  been  signalled  to  stop  fighting,  turned  his  blind 
eye  to  the  station,  exclaiming,  "  /  see  no  signal !  " 

These  are  but  a  few  of  the  many  incidents  which 
illustrate  the  courage  of  these  stout-hearted  veterans 


"The  Cradle  and  the  Grave"  277 

and  the  spirit  behind  their  small  force  which  in- 
spired that  courage  and  compelled  success.  They 
fought  —  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  men,  badly 
armed  and  untrained  —  behind  their  frail  defence ; 
one  hundred  and  twenty-five  against  twenty-three 
hundred  of  the  enemy,  holding  them  at  bay  for  two 
hours !  General  Butler  was  greatly  chagrined  at 
the  failure  of  this  move  upon  Petersburg.  He  sent 
a  characteristic  letter  of  reproof  to  his  general  officer 
north  of  the  Appomattox.  After  detailing  all  the 
mistakes  that  had  led  to  the  humiliating  repulse,  he 
adds  testily :  "  You  have  endeavored  to  state  in 
your  report  what  my  orders  to  General  Kautz 
were.  That  was  no  part  of  your  report.  I  know 
what  my  orders  were  without  any  information  from 
that  source,"  adding,  "  certain  it  is  that  forty-five 
hundred  of  my  best  troops  have  been  kept  at  bay 
by  some  fifteen  hundred  men,  six  hundred  only  of 
which  were  Confederate  troops  and  the  rest  old 
men  and  boys,  the  cradle  and  the  grave  being 
robbed  of  about  equal  proportions  to  compose  the 
force  opposed  to  you." 

"  The  cradle  and  the  grave ! "  Alas,  yes ! 
There  was  no  triumph  on  the  evening  of  that  day. 
Half  the  gallant  company  was  gone.  There  was 
wailing  within  the  city  gates  that  night.  "The 
hand  of  the  reaper  "  had  taken  "  the  ears  that  were 
hoary,"  and  the  daughters  wept  for  the  good,  gray 
head  gone  forward  to  the  "eternal  camping  ground  " 
after  a  long  life  of  peace.  For  these  gallant  gentle- 
men the  white  rose  which  shaded  my  door  yielded 
all  its  pure  blossoms.  Well  was  it  for  the  sake  of 


2y 8         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

my  own  devotion  that  this  was  an  ever  blooming 
rose  !  I  had  watered  and  nourished  it  with  care, 
unconscious  of  its  high  vocation,  to  bud  and  blos- 
som and  lie  on  the  noble  heart  of  more  than  one 
soldier.  My  own  husband  was  in  the  fight,  and 
sent  the  first  news  of  the  repulse  of  the  enemy  and 
the  safety  of  his  boyhood's  home. 

Immediately  after  the  battle  on  the  line,  June  9, 
we  observed  unusual  activity  in  our  streets.  Great 
army  wagons  passed  continually,  pausing  often 
at  a  well  before  my  door  to  water  their  horses. 
Clouds  of  dust  filled  the  city.  Evidently  some- 
thing unusual  was  going  on.  "  We  are  only  re- 
enforcing  our  defences,"  we  said,  and  comforted 
ourselves  in  the  thought. 

One  day  my  father  came  in  unexpectedly.  The 
army  corps  to  which  he  was  attached  had  camped 
near  Petersburg ! 

"  I've  just  met  General  Lee  in  the  street,"  he 
said. 

I  uttered  an  exclamation  of  alarm.  "  Oh,  is  he 
going  to  fight  here  ?  " 

"  My  dear,"  said  my  father,  sternly,  "  you  sur- 
prise me  !  The  safest  place  for  you  is  in  the  rear  of 
General  Lee's  army,  and  that  happens  to  be  just 
where  you  are  !  The  lines  are  established  just  here, 
and  filled  with  Lee's  veterans." 

This  was  startling  news,  but  more  was  to  follow. 
One  Sunday  afternoon,  —  the  next,  I  think,  —  the 
Presbyterian  minister  had  gathered  his  flock  of 
women  and  children  for  service  in  the  church  op- 
posite my  home,  and  had  just  uttered  the  first  sen- 


General  Grant  shells  Petersburg  279 

tence  of  his  opening  prayer,  "  Almighty  Father,  we 
are  assembled  to  worship  Thee  in  the  presence  of 
our  enemies,"  when  an  awful,  serpentlike  hiss  filled 
the  church,  and  a  shell  burst  through  the  wall. 

In  a  moment  the  church  was  empty,  and  Dr. 
Miller,  the  pastor,  was  telling  me  that  his  congre- 
gation had  dismissed  itself  without  a  benediction  ! 

"And  the  shell?"  I  inquired. 

"It  lies  upon  the  table  in  the  church,"  said  the 
doctor;  "nobody  dares  remove  it." 

This  was  the  first  shell  that  entered  our  part  of 
the  town.  From  that  moment  we  were  shelled  at 
intervals,  and  very  severely.  There  were  no  sol- 
diers in  the  city.  Women  were  killed  on  the  lower 
streets,  and  an  exodus  from  the  shelled  districts 
commenced  at  once. 

As  soon  as  the  enemy  brought  up  their  siege  guns 
of  heavy  artillery,  they  opened  on  the  city  with  shell 
without  the  slightest  notice,  or  without  giving  op- 
portunity for  the  removal  of  non-combatants,  the 
sick,  the  wounded,  or  the  women  and  children. 
The  fire  was  at  first  directed  toward  the  Old  Mar- 
ket, presumably  because  of  the  railroad  depot  situ- 
ated there,  about  which  soldiers  might  be  supposed 
to  collect.  But  the  guns  soon  enlarged  their  opera- 
tions, sweeping  all  the  streets  in  the  business  part 
of  the  city,  and  then  invading  the  residential  region. 
The  steeples  of  the  churches  seemed  to  afford  tar- 
gets for  their  fire,  all  of  them  coming  in  finally  for  a 
share  of  the  compliment. 

To  persons  unfamiliar  with  the  infernal  noise 
made  by  the  screaming,  ricocheting,  and  bursting 


280         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

of  shells,  it  is  impossible  to  describe  the  terror  and 
demoralization  which  ensued.  Some  families  who 
could  not  leave  the  besieged  city  dug  holes  in  the 
ground,  five  or  six  feet  deep,  covered  with  heavy 
timbers  banked  over  with  earth,  the  entrance  facing 
opposite  the  batteries  from  which  the  shells  were 
fired.  They  made  these  bomb-proofs  safe,  at  least, 
and  thither  the  family  repaired  when  heavy  shelling 
commenced.  General  Lee  seemed  to  recognize  that 
no  part  of  the  city  was  safe,  for  he  immediately 
ordered  the  removal  of  all  the  hospitals,  under  the 
care  of  Petersburg's  esteemed  physician,  Dr.  John 
Herbert  Claiborne.  There  were  three  thousand 
sick  and  wounded,  many  of  them  too  ill  to  be 
moved.  A  long,  never-ending  line  of  wagons,  carts, 
everything  that  could  run  on  wheels,  passed  my 
door,  until  there  were  no  more  to  pass.  We  soon 
learned  the  peculiar,  deep  boom  of  the  one  great  gun 
which  bore  directly  upon  us.  The  boys  named  it 
"  Long  Tom."  Sometimes  for  several  weeks  "  Long 
Tom  "  rested  or  slept —  and  would  then  make  up  for 
lost  time.  And  yet  we  yielded  to  no  panic.  The 
children  seemed  to  understand  that  it  would  be  cow- 
ardly to  complain.  One  little  girl  cried  out  with  fright 
at  an  explosion  ;  but  her  aunt,  Mrs.  Gibson,  took  her 
in  her  arms,  and  said  :  "  My  dear,  you  cannot  make 
it  harder  for  other  people !  If  you  feel  very  much 
afraid,  come  to  me,  and  I  will  clasp  you  close,  but 
you  mustn't  cry." 

Charles  Campbell,  the  historian,  lived  near  us,  at 
the  Anderson  Seminary.  He  cleared  out  the  large 
coal  cellar,  which  was  fortunately  dry,  spread  rugs 


"Frenshman  nevare  fight  for  Neeger"     281 

on  the  floor,  and  furnished  it  with  lounges  and 
chairs.  There  we  took  refuge  when  the  firing  was 
unbearable.  Some  of  our  neighbors  piled  bags  of 
sand  around  their  houses,  and  thus  made  them 
bomb-proof. 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Hoge,  who  had  come  South  from 
the  Brick  Church,  New  York,  of  which  he  had  been 
pastor,  was  lying  ill  and  dying  a  few  miles  from 
Petersburg,  and  my  friend  Mrs.  Bland  invited  me 
to  accompany  her  to  visit  him.  She  had  borrowed 
an  ambulance  from  General  Bushrod  Johnson. 

We  made  our  call  upon  our  sick  friend,  and  were 
on  our  return  when  we  were  suddenly  startled  by 
heavy  firing.  The  ambulance  driver  was  much  ex- 
cited, and  began  to  pour  forth  in  broken  English  a 
torrent  of  abuse  of  the  Confederacy.  As  we  were 
near  home,  we  kept  silence,  thinking  that,  if  he  grew 
more  offensive,  we  could  leave  him  and  walk.  Mrs. 
Bland  undertook  to  reason  with  him. 

"  What  is  your  grievance  ?  "  she  inquired.  "  Per- 
haps we  might  see  the  colonel  and  arrange  a  better 
place  for  you  —  some  transfer,  perhaps." 

"  Nevare  !  nevare  !  "  said  our  man,  "  I  transfare 
to  my  own  koontree !  I  make  what  you  call  — 
c  desairt.'  Mon  Dieu  !  dey  now  tell  me  I  fight  for 
neeger  !  Frenshman  nevare  fight  for  neeger." 

All  this  time  the  guns  were  booming  away,  and 
clouds  of  smoke  were  drifting  toward  us.  We  were 
glad  to  arrive  at  my  door. 

It  was  closed.  There  was  not  a  soul  in  the  house. 
One  of  the  chimneys  had  been  knocked  down,  and 
the  bricks  lay  in  a  heap  on  the  grass.  I  thought  of 


282         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

Mr.  Campbell's  bomb-proof  cellar ;  there  we  found 
my  children,  and  there  we  remained  until  the  par- 
oxysmal shelling  ceased. 

One  night,  after  a  long,  hot  day,  we  were  so  tired 
we  slept  soundly.  I  was  awakened  by  Eliza  Page, 
standing  trembling  beside  me.  She  pulled  me  out 
of  bed  and  hurriedly  turned  to  throw  blankets 
around  the  children.  The  furies  were  let  loose ! 
The  house  was  literally  shaking  with  the  concussion 
from  the  heavy  guns.  We  were  in  the  street,  on  our 
way  to  our  bomb-proof  cellar,  when  a  shell  burst  not 
more  than  fifty  feet  before  us.  Fire  and  fragments 
rose  like  a  fountain  in  the  air  and  fell  in  a  shower 
around  us.  Not  one  of  my  little  family  was  hurt. 

Another  time  a  shell  fell  in  our  own  yard  and 
buried  itself  in  the  earth.  My  baby  was  not  far 
away,  in  her  nurse's  arms.  The  little  creature  was 
fascinated  by  the  shells.  The  first  word  she  ever 
uttered  was  an  attempt  to  imitate  them.  "Yonder 
comes  that  bird  with  the  broken  wing,"  the  servants 
would  say.  The  shells  made  a  fluttering  sound  as 
they  traversed  the  air,  descending  with  a  frightful 
hiss,  to  explode  or  be  buried  in  the  earth.  When 
they  exploded  in  midair  by  day,  a  puff  of  smoke, 
white  as  an  angel's  wing,  would  drift  away,  and  the 
particles  would  patter  down  like  hail.  At  night, 
the  track  of  the  shell  and  its  explosion  were  pre- 
cisely similar  in  sound,  although  not  in  degree,  to 
our  Fourth  of  July  rockets,  except  that  they  were 
fired,  not  upward,  but  in  a  slanting  direction.  I 
never  felt  afraid  of  them  !  I  was  brought  up  to  be- 
lieve in  predestination.  Courage,  after  all,  is  much 


A  Dead  Mule  and  Meat  Pies  283 

a  matter  of  nerves.  My  neighbors,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Gibson  and  Mrs.  Meade,  agreed  with  me,  and  we 
calmly  elected  to  remain  in  town.  There  was  no 
place  of  safety  accessible  to  us.  Mr.  Branch 
removed  his  family,  and,  as  far  as  I  knew,  none 
other  of  my  friends  remained  throughout  the 
summer. 

Not  far  from  the  door  ran  a  sunken  street,  with  a 
hill,  through  which  it  was  cut,  rising  each  side  of  it. 
Into  this  hill  the  negroes  burrowed,  hollowing  out  a 
small  space,  where  they  sat  all  day  on  mats,  knitting, 
and  selling  small  cakes  made  of  sorghum  and  flour, 
and  little  round  meat  pies.  I  might  have  been 
tempted  to  invest  in  the  latter  except  for  a  slight 
circumstance.  I  saw  a  dead  mule  lying  on  the 
common,  and  out  of  its  side  had  been  cut  a  very 
neat,  square  chunk  of  flesh  ! 

With  all  our  starvation  we  never  ate  rats,  mice,  or 
mule-meat.  We  managed  to  exist  on  peas,  bread, 
and  sorghum.  We  could  buy  a  little  milk,  and  we 
mixed  it  with  a  drink  made  from  roasted  and  ground 
corn.  The  latter,  in  the  grain,  was  scarce.  Mr. 
Campbell's  children  picked  up  the  grains  wherever 
the  army  horses  were  fed. 

My  little  boys  never  complained,  but  Theo,  who 
had  insisted  upon  returning  to  me  from  his  uncle's 
safe  home  in  the  country,  said  one  day :  "  Mamma, 
I  have  a  queer  feeling  in  my  stomach !  Oh,  no  !  it 
doesn't  ache  the  least  bit,  but  it  feels  like  a  nut- 
meg grater." 

Poor  little  laddie !  His  machinery  needed  oiling. 
And  pretty  soon  his  small  brother  fell  ill  with  fever. 


284          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

My  blessed  Dr.  Withers  obtained  a  permit  for  me 
to  get  a  pint  of  soup  every  day  from  the  hospital, 
and  one  day  there  was  a  joyful  discovery.  In  the 
soup  was  a  drumstick  of  chicken  ! 

"  I  cert'nly  hope  I'll  not  get  well,"  the  little  man 
shocked  me  by  saying. 

"  Oh,  is  it  as  bad  as  that  ?  "  I  sighed. 

"  Why,"  he  replied,  "  my  soup  will  be  stopped  if 
I  get  better  !  " 

Just  at  this  juncture,  when  things  were  as  bad 
as  could  be,  my  husband  brought  home  to  tea  the 
Hon.  Pierre  Soule,  General  D.  H.  Hill,  and  Gen- 
eral Longstreet.  I  had  bread  and  a  little  tea,  the 
latter  served  in  a  yellow  pitcher  without  a  handle. 
Mrs.  Campbell,  hearing  of  my  necessity,  sent  me  a 
small  piece  of  bacon. 

When  we  assembled  around  the  table,  I  lifted  my 
hot  pitcher  by  means  of  a  napkin,  and  offered  my 
tea,  pure  and  simple,  allowing  the  guests  to  use  their 
discretion  in  regard  to  a  spoonful  or  two  of  very 
dark  brown  sugar. 

"  This  is  a  great  luxury,  Madam,"  said  Mr.  Soule, 
with  one  of  his  gracious  bows,  "  a  good  cup  of  tea/' 

We  talked  that  night  of  all  that  was  going  wrong 
with  our  country,  of  the  good  men  who  were  con- 
stantly relieved  of  their  commands,  of  all  the  mis- 
takes we  were  making. 

"  Mistakes !  "  said  General  Hill,  bringing  his 
clinched  fist  down  upon  the  table,  "  I  could  forgive 
mistakes  !  I  cannot  forgive  lies  !  I  could  get  along 
if  we  could  only,  only  ever  learn  the  truth,  the  real 
truth."  But  he  was  very  personal  and  used  much 
stronger  words  than  these. 


The  Battle  of  Port  Walthall  285 

They  talked  and  talked,  these  veterans  and  the 
charming,  accomplished  diplomat,  until  one  of  them 
inquired  the  hour.  1  raised  a  curtain. 

"  Gentlemen,"  I  said,  "  the  sun  is  rising.  You 
must  now  breakfast  with  us."  They  declined.  They 
had  supped ! 

I  had  the  misfortune  early  in  June  to  fall  ill,  with 
one  of  the  sudden,  violent  fevers  which  cannot  be 
arrested,  but  must  "  run  its  course  "  for  a  certain 
number  of  days.  I  was  delirious  from  this  fever, 
and  wild  with  the  idea  that  a  battle  was  raging 
within  hearing.  I  fancied  I  could  hear  the  ring  of 
the  musket  as  it  was  loaded !  Possibly  my  quick- 
ened senses  had  really  heard,  for  a  fierce  battle  was 
going  on  at  Port  Walthall,  a  station  on  the  Rich- 
mond and  Petersburg  railroad,  six  miles  distant. 
General  Butler  had  landed  at  Bermuda  Hundred 
and  had  been  sent  by  General  Grant  to  lead  a 
column  against  Richmond  on  the  south  side  of  the 
James  and  to  cooperate  with  forces  from  the  Wil- 
derness. Butler  had  reached  Swift  Creek,  there  to 
be  met  by  General  Johnson,  and  repulsed  as 
far  as  Walthall  Junction  on  the  railroad.  The 
following  day  there  was  a  hotly  contested  battle  at 
close  quarters,  continued  on  the  next,  when  our 
.men,  although  greatly  outnumbered  by  Butler's 
forces,  drove  these  back  to  their  base  on  the  James 
River.  All  this  time  my  excited  visions  were  of 
battle  and  soldiers,  culminating  at  last  by  the  pres- 
ence of  one  soldier,  leaning  wearily  on  his  sabre  in 
my  own  room.  I  did  not  recognize  the  soldier,  but 
memory  still  holds  his  attitude  of  grief  as  he  looked 


a 86         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

at  me,  and  the  sound  of  his  voice  as  he  answered 
my  question, "  Where  have  you  been  all  this  time  ?  " 
with,  "  In  more  peril  than  in  all  my  life  before." 

But  the  fever  crisis  was  passing  even  then,  and 
I  was  soon  well  enough  to  learn  more.  This  was 
another  of  the  well-planned  schemes  for  taking  Rich- 
mond, another  of  the  failures  which  drew  from 
Lincoln  the  gravely  humorous  reply,  when  ap- 
plication was  made  to  him  for  a  pass  to  go  to 
Richmond :  — 

"  I  don't  know  about  that ;  I  have  given  passes 
to  about  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  men  to  go 
there  during  the  last  two  or  three  years,  and  not  one 
of  them  has  got  there  yet." 

Dr.  Claiborne  went  out  to  this  Walthall  battle-field 
to  help  the  wounded,  taking  with  him  surgeons  and 
ambulances.  A  dreadful  sight  awaited  him.  Bodies 
of  dead  men,  Federal  and  Confederate,  lay  piled  to- 
gether in  heaps.  On  removing  some  of  these  to 
discover  if  any  one  of  them  might  be  still  alive,  a 
paper  dropped  from  the  pocket  of  a  young  lieu- 
tenant, written  in  German  to  a  lady  in  Bremen. 
Upon  reading  it,  Dr.  Claiborne  found  it  was  ad- 
dressed to  his  betrothed.  He  told  her  that  his  term 
of  service  having  expired,  he  would  soon  leave  for 
New  York  City,  and  he  gave  her  the  street  and  num- 
ber where  she  should  meet  him  on  her  arrival  in  this 
country.  This  was  his  last  fight,  into  which  he  went 
no  doubt  voluntarily,  as  he  was  about  to  leave  the 
army.  Doubtless  the  blue-eyed  Madchen  looked 
long  for  him  on  the  banks  of  the  Weser !  The  doc- 
tor indorsed  the  sad  news  on  the  letter,  and  sent  it 


Confederate  Gallantry  goes  Unrewarded    287 

through  the  lines.  Perhaps  it  reached  her,  or  per- 
haps she  is  telling  her  story  this  day  to  other  blue 
eyes  on  the  Weser,  eyes  that  look  up  and  wonder 
she  could  ever  have  been  young,  lovely,  and  the 
promised  bride  of  a  gallant  Union  officer. 

The  Confederate  government  utterly  neglected 
the  praise  and  distinction  so  freely  awarded  by  other 
nations  in  time  of  war,  for  deeds  of  gallantry  and 
valor.  Says  Major  Stiles :  "  Not  only  did  I  never 
see  or  hear  of  a  promotion  on  the  field,  but  I  do  not 
believe  such  a  thing  ever  occurred  in  any  army  of 
the  Confederacy  from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of 
the  war.  Indeed,  I  am  confident  it  never  did;  for, 
incredible  as  it  may  appear,  even  Lee  himself  did 
not  have  the  power  to  make  such  promotion.  I 
never  saw  or  heard  of  a  medal  or  a  ribbon  being 
pinned  on  a  man's  jacket,  or  even  so  much  as  a 
man's  name  being  read  out  publicly  in  orders  of 
gallantry  in  battle." l 

Hanging  in  my  husband's  library,  among  other 
war  relics,  is  a  heavy  silver  medal,  representing  in 
high  relief  a  soldier  charging  a  cannon.  On  the 
obverse  side  is  a  laurel  wreath,  space  for  a  name, 
and  the  words,  "  Distinguished  for  courage :  U.  S. 
Colored  Troops."  No  such  medal  was  ever  given 
by  our  government  to  its  hardly  used,  poorly  paid 
private  soldiers.  Some  of  them  fought  through  the 
war.  They  starved  and  froze  in  the  trenches  dur- 
ing that  last  dreadful  winter,  but  no  precious  star  or 
ribbon  was  awarded,  to  be  hung  with  the  sabre  or 
musket  and  venerated  by  generations  yet  to  come. 

1 "  Four  Years  with  Marse  Robert,"  p.  341. 


288          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

Among  my  few  preserved  papers  I  have  two  in 
faded  ink.  One  is  signed  Bushrod  Johnson,  the 
other  D.  H.  Hill.  The  latter  says:  "The  victory 
at  Walthall  Junction  was  greatly  due  to  General 
Roger  A.  Pryor.  But  for  him  it  is  probable  we 
might  have  been  surprised  and  defeated."  The 
other  from  General  Johnson  runs  at  length  :  "  At 
the  most  critical  juncture  General  Roger  A.  Pryor 
rendered  me  most  valuable  service,  displaying  great 
zeal,  energy,  and  gallantry  in  reconnoitring  the  posi- 
tions of  the  enemy,  arranging  my  line  of  battle,  and 
rendering  successful  the  operations  and  movements 
of  the  conflict."  At  General  Johnson's  request  my 
husband  served  with  him  during  the  midsummer. 
Such  letters  I  have  in  lieu  of  medal  or  ribbon,  —  a 
part  only  of  much  of  similar  nature  ;  but  less  was 
given  to  many  a  man  who  as  fitly  deserved  recognition. 

My  General,  who  had  been  in  active  service  in  all 
the  events  around  Petersburg,  was  now  requested  by 
General  Lee  to  take  with  him  a  small  squad  of  men, 
and  learn  something  of  the  movements  of  the  enemy. 

"  Grant  knows  all  about  me,"  he  said,  "  and  I 
know  too  little  about  Grant.  You  were  a  school- 
boy here,  General,  and  have  hunted  in  all  the  by- 
paths around  Petersburg.  Knowing  the  country 
better  than  any  of  us,  you  are  the  best  man  for  this 
important  duty." 

Accordingly,  armed  with  a  pass  from  General  Lee, 
my  husband  set  forth  on  his  perilous  scouting 
expedition,  sometimes  being  absent  a  week  at  a  time. 
One  morning,  very  early,  he  entered  my  room. 

"  I  am  dead  for  want  of  sleep,"  he  said.     "  I  was 


Breakfast  for  Federal  Prisoners  289 

obliged  to  take  some  prisoners.  They  are  coming 
in  under  guard,  and  you  must  give  them  a  good 
breakfast."  As  he  walked  out  of  the  room  to  find  a 
quiet  corner,  he  called  back,  "  Be  sure,  now !  Feed 
my  prisoners,  if  all  the  rest  of  us  lose  our  breakfast." 

He  had  suggested  the  only  way  in  which  he  could 
be  obeyed. 

Five  forlorn  blue-coated  soldiers  soon  appeared, 
and  lay  down  under  the  trees.  Presently  they  were 
all  asleep.  I  called  my  little  family  together.  We 
had  only  a  small  pail  of  meal.  Would  they  be  will- 
ing to  give  it  to  these  poor  prisoners  ? 

They  were  willing,  never  fear ;  but  I  had  trouble 
with  John.  He  grew  very  sullen  when  I  ordered 
him  to  bake  the  bread  for  Yankee  prisoners  in  five 
small  loaves.  I  promised  to  send  out  for  more  pro- 
visions later,  and  finally  he  yielded,  but  with  an  ill 
grace.  When  the  hot  loaves  were  on  the  table, 
flanked  by  sweetened  corn-coffee,  I  deputed  Paterson 
Gibson,  my  neighbor's  kindly  young  son,  to  waken 
my  guests.  This  was  no  easy  matter. 

"  Come,  now,  Yank/'  said  Pat,  "  get  up  and  eat 
your  breakfast.  Come  now !  Cheer  up !  We'll 
send  you  home  pretty  soon." 

We  left  them  alone  at  their  repast.  It  occurred 
to  me  they  might  try  to  escape,  and  I  heartily 
wished  they  would.  But  after  an  hour  they  were 
marched  away,  we  knew  not  whither. 

On  July  joth  occurred  the  dreadful  explosion  of 
the  mine  which  the  enemy  had  tunnelled  under  our 
line  of  fortifications. 

A  little  after  four  in  the  morning  the  city   was 


290         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

roused  by  the  most  awful  thunder  —  like  nothing  I 
can  imagine,  except,  perhaps,  the  sudden  eruption  of  a 
volcano.  This  was  the  explosion  of  a  mine  tunnelled 
by  General  Grant  under  our  works.  Instantly  the 
unhappy  residents  of  the  town  poured  into  the 
street  and  out  on  the  road,  anywhere  to  escape 
what  we  supposed  to  be  an  earthquake.  No  words 
can  adequately  describe  this  horror !  We  lost  a 
part  of  our  line.  Colonel  Paul,  a  member  of 
Beauregard's  staff,  was  sent  to  inform  General  Lee 
of  the  disaster,  and  bore  back  his  orders  that  the 
line  must  be  at  once  recaptured.  As  the  colonel 
passed  his  father's  house,  he  ran  in  and  found  the 
old  gentleman's  hand  on  the  bell-rope  to  summon 
his  household  to  family  prayers. 

"  Stay,  my  son,  and  join  us  at  prayers,"  said  the 
old  man.  "  Get  some  breakfast  with  your  mother 
and  me."  The  colonel  could  not  pause.  He 
must  leave  this  peaceful  home,  and  bear  his  part  in 
protecting  it. 

When  the  veterans  meet  to-day  for  their  camp- 
fire  talk,  it  is  of  the  "  battle  of  the  Crater,"  the 
shocking  incidents  of  which  cannot  be  told  to  gentle 
ears,  that  they  speak  most  frequently.  The  foun- 
tain of  fire  that  shot  up  to  heaven  bore  with  it  the 
dismembered  bodies  of  man  made  in  God's  own 
image.  Then  infuriated  men,  black  and  white,  leaped 
into  the  chasm  and  mingled  in  an  orgy  of  carnage. 
No  one  has  ever  built  on  that  field.  Nature  smooths 
its  scars  with  her  gentle  hand,  but  no  dwelling  of  man 
will  ever  rest  there  while  this  tragedy  is  remembered. 

On  May  3d,  1887,  Federal  and  Confederate  vet- 


The  Battle  of  the  Crater  29- 

erans  met  on  this  spot  and  clasped  hands  together. 
Since  then  the  Confederates  have  met  there  again 
and  again.  Each  one  has  some  story  to  tell  of 
heroism,  of  devotion,  and  the  stories  are  not  always 
tragic.  Some  of  them  have  been  gleaned  from  the 
experiences  of  the  boys  in  blue. 

Lieutenant  Rowley  of  the  Northern  army  de- 
livered an  address  before  the  California  commandery 
of  the  Loyal  Legion  of  the  United  States,  and 
quotes  from  the  address  of  a  negro  preacher  to  his 
fellows  just  before  the  explosion  of  the  crater.  He 
was  sergeant  of  a  company  of  negroes,  and  thus 
exhorted  them :  — 

"  Now,  men,  dis  is  gwine  to  be  a  gret  fight,  de 
gretest  we  seen  yit ;  gret  things  is  'pending  on  dis 
fight ;  if  we  takes  Petersburg,  mos'  likely  we'll  take 
Richmond  an'  'stroy  Lee's  army  an'  close  de  wah. 
Eb'ry  man  had  orter  lifF  up  his  soul  in  pra'r  for  a 
strong  heart.  Oh  !  'member  de  pore  colored  people 
ober  dere  in  bondage.  Oh  !  'member  dat  Gin'ral 
Grant  an'  Gin'ral  Burnside  an'  Gin'ral  Meade  an' 
all  de  gret  gin'rals  is  right  ober  yander  a  watchin'  ye ; 
an'  'member  Pse  a  watchin'  ye  an  'any  skulker  is  a 
gwine  ter  git  a  prod  ob  dis  ba'net  —  you  heah  me  !  " 

Words  than  which,  except  for  the  closing  sentence, 
I  know  none  more  pathetic. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

BEHIND    LEEJS    LINES 

TH  E  month  of  August  in  the  besieged  city  passed 
like  a  dream  of  terror.  The  weather  was 
intensely  hot  and  dry,  varied  by  storms  of 
thunder  and  lightning  —  when  the  very  heavens 
seemed  in  league  with  the  thunderbolts  of  the 
enemy.  Our  region  was  not  shelled  continuously. 
One  shot  from  "our  own  gun,"  as  we  learned  to 
call  it,  would  be  fired  as  if  to  let  us  know  our  places  ; 
this  challenge  would  be  answered  from  one  of  our 
batteries,  and  the  two  would  thunder  away  for  five 
or  six  hours.  We  always  sought  shelter  in  Mr. 
Campbeirs  bomb-proof  cellar  at  such  times,  and  the 
negroes  would  run  to  their  own  "bum-proofs,"  as 
they  termed  the  cells  hollowed  under  the  hill. 

Agnes  wrote  from  Richmond,  August  26, 1 864 :  — 

u  You  dear,  obstinate  little  woman  !  What  did  I  tell 
you  ?  I  implored  you  to  get  away  while  you  could,  and 
now  you  are  waiting  placidly  for  General  Grant  to  blow 
you  up.  That  awful  crater !  Do  the  officers  around  you 
consider  it  honorable  warfare  to  dig  and  mine  under  a 
man  and  blow  him  up  while  he  is  asleep  —  before  he  has 
time  to  get  his  musket  ?  I  always  thought  an  open  field 
and  a  fair  fight,  with  the  enemy  in  front  at  equal  chances, 

292 


A  Letter  from  Richmond  293 

was  the  American  idea  of  honest,  manly  warfare.  To 
my  mind  this  is  the  most  awful  thing  that  could  be  imag- 
ined. There  is  a  strong  feeling  among  the  people  I  meet 
that  the  hour  has  come  when  we  should  consider  the  lives 
of  the  few  men  left  to  us.  Why  let  the  enemy  wipe  us 
off  the  face  of  the  earth  ?  Should  this  feeling  grow,  noth- 
ing but  a  great  victory  can  stop  it.  Don't  you  remember 
what  Mr.  Hunter  said  to  us  in  Washington?  'You  may 
sooner  check  with  your  bare  hand  the  torrent  of  Niagara 
than  stop  this  tidal  wave  of  secession/  /  am  for  a  tidal 
wave  of  peace  —  and  I  am  not  alone.  Meanwhile  we 
are  slowly  starving  to  death.  Here,  in  Richmond,  if  we 
can  afford  to  give  $11  for  a  pound  of  bacon,  $10  for  a 
small  dish  of  green  corn,  and  $10  for  a  watermelon,  we 
can  have  a  dinner  of  three  courses  for  four  persons.  Hamp- 
ton's cavalry  passed  through  town  last  week,  amid  great 
excitement.  Every  man  as  he  trotted  by  was  cutting  and 
eating  a  watermelon,  and  throwing  the  rinds  on  the  heads 
of  the  little  negro  boys  who  followed  in  crowds  on  either 
side  of  the  street.  You  wouldn't  have  dreamed  of  war  — 
such  shouting  and  laughing  from  everybody.  The  con- 
trasts we  constantly  see  look  like  insanity  in  our  people. 
The  President  likes  to  call  attention  to  the  fact  that  we 
have  no  beggars  on  our  streets,  as  evidence  that  things  are 
not  yet  desperate  with  us.  He  forgets  our  bread  riot  which 
occurred  such  a  little  while  ago.  That  pale,  thin  woman 
with  the  wan  smile  haunts  me.  Ah  !  these  are  the  people 
who  suffer  the  consequence  of  all  that  talk  about  slavery  in 
the  territories  you  and  I  used  to  hear  in  the  House  and 
Senate  Chamber.  Somebody,  somewhere,  is  mightily  to 
blame  for  all  this  business,  but  it  isn't  you  nor  I,  nor  yet 
the  women  who  did  not  really  deserve  to  have  Governor 
Letcher  send  the  mayor  to  read  the  Riot  Act  to  them. 
They  were  only  hungry,  and  so  a  thousand  of  them  loaded 
some  carts  with  bread  for  their  children.  You  are  not  to 


294         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

suppose  I  am  heartless  because  I  run  on  in  this  irrelevant 
fashion.  The  truth  is,  I  am  so  shocked  and  disturbed  I  am 
hysterical.  It  is  all  so  awful. 

"  Your  scared-to-death 

«  AGNES." 

My  husband  sent  me  a  note  by  his  courier,  one 
hot  August  day,  to  tell  me  that  his  old  aide,  Captain 
Whitner,  having  been  wounded,  was  now  discharged 
from  the  hospital,  but  was  much  too  weak  for  ser- 
vice in  the  trenches,  so  he  had  obtained  for  the  cap- 
tain leavfe  of  absence  for  two  weeks,  and  had  sent 
him  to  me  to  be  built  up.  On  the  moment  the  sick 
man  appeared  in  an  ambulance.  I  was  glad  to  see 
him,  but  a  gaunt  spectre  arose  before  my  imagina- 
tion and  sternly  suggested :  "  Built  up,  forsooth  ! 
And  pray,  what  are  you  to  build  him  up  with  ? 
You  can  no  more  make  a  man  without  food  than 
the  Israelites  could  make  bricks  without  straw." 

However,  the  captain  had  brought  a  ration  of 
bacon  and  meal,  with  promise  of  more  to  come.  I 
bethought  me  of  the  flourishing  garden  of  my  neigh- 
bor, whose  onions  and  beets  were  daily  gathered  for 
her  own  family.  I  wrote  a  very  pathetic  appeal  for 
my  wounded  Confederate  soldier,  now  threatened 
with  scurvy  for  want  of  fresh  food,  and  I  fully  ex- 
pected she  would  be  moved  by  my  eloquence  and 
her  own  patriotism  to  grant  me  a  daily  portion  from 
her  garden.  She  answered  that  she  would  agree  to 
send  me  a  dish  of  vegetables  fourteen  days  for  four- 
teen dollars.  Gold  was  then  selling  at  the  rate  of 
twenty-five  dollars  in  our  paper  currency  for  one 
dollar  in  gold,  so  the  dish  was  not  a  very  costly  one. 


A  Dead  Officer  brought  in  at  Night      295 

But  when  it  appeared  it  was  a  very  small  dish  indeed, 
—  two  beets  or  four  onions.  Homoeopathic  as  were 
the  remedial  agents,  they  helped  to  cure  the  captain. 

One  morning,  late  in  August,  Eliza  came  early  to 
my  bedside.  I  started  up  in  alarm. 

"  Shelling  again  ?  "  I  asked  her. 

"  Worse,"  said  Eliza. 

"Tell  me,  tell  me  quick  —  is  the  General  —  " 

"No,  no,  honey,"  said  my  kind  nurse,  laying  a 
detaining  hand  upon  me.  "  You  cert'nly  sleep 
sound !  Didn't  you  hear  a  stir  downstairs  in  the 
night?  Well,  about  midnight  somebody  hallooed 
to  the  kitchen,  and  John  ran  out.  There  stood  a 
man  on  horseback  and  a  dead  soldier  lying  before 
him  on  the  saddle.  He  said  to  John,  c  Boy,  I  know 
General  Pryor  would  not  refuse  to  take  in  my  dead 
brother/ 

"  John  ran  up  to  my  room  and  asked  me  what  he 
must  do.  'Take  him  in/  I  told  him.  c  Marse 
Roger  will  never  forgive  you  if  you  turn  him  away.' ' 

"  You  were  perfectly  right,"  I  said,  beginning  to 
dress  myself.  "  Where  is  he  ?  " 

"In  the  parlor,"  said  Eliza.  "He  had  a  man- 
servant with  him.  John  brought  in  his  own  cot, 
and  he  is  lying  on  it.  His  brother  is  in  there,  and 
his  man,  both  of  them." 

The  children  were  hushed  by  their  nurse's  story, 
and  gathered  under  the  shade  in  the  yard.  When 
breakfast  was  served,  I  sent  John  to  invite  my  guest 
in.  He  returned  with  answer  that  "the  captain 
don'  feel  like  eatin'  nothin'." 

"  Captain  ?  "  I  asked. 


296          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

"  No'm,  he  ain't  a  captain,  but  his  dead  brother 
was.  He  was  Captain  Spann  of  South  Carolina  or 
Georgia,  I  forget  which.  His  man  came  into  the 
kitchen  for  hot  water  to  shave  his  dead  master,  but 
I  didn't  ask  many  questions  'cause  I  saw  he  was 
troubled." 

I  went  out  to  my  ever  blooming  rose  and  found 
it  full  of  cool,  dewy  blossoms.  I  cut  an  armful, 
and  knocked  at  the  parlor  door  myself.  It  was 
opened  by  a  haggard,  weary-looking  soldier,  who 
burst  into  tears  at  seeing  me.  I  took  his  hand  and 
essayed  to  lead  him  forth,  but  he  brokenly  begged 
I  would  place  the  roses  upon  his  brother's  breast. 
"  Will  you,  for  the  sake  of  his  poor  wife  and 
mother  ?  " 

Very  calm  was  the  face  of  the  dead  officer.  His 
servant  and  his  brother  had  shaven  and  cared  for 
him.  His  dark  hair  was  brushed  from  a  noble 
brow,  and  I  could  see  that  his  features  were  regular 
and  refined. 

I  persuaded  the  lonely  watcher  to  go  with  John 
to  an  upper  room,  to  bathe  and  rest  a  few  minutes ; 
but  he  soon  descended  and  joined  us  at  our  frugal 
breakfast,  and  then  Mr.  Gibson,  my  good  rector, 
came  in  to  help  and  advise,  and  in  the  evening  my 
husband  returned,  much  gratified  that  we  had  re- 
ceived and  comforted  the  poor  fellow. 

As  August  drew  to  a  close,  I  began  to  perceive 
that  I  could  no  longer  endure  the  recurrence  of  such 
scenes;  and  I  learned  with  great  relief  that  my 
brother-in-law  hs.d  moved  his  family  to  North  Car- 
olina and  had  placed  Cottage  Farm,  three  miles 


Flight  from  the  Besieged  City  297 

distant  from  the  besieged  city,  at  my  disposal. 
Accordingly,  I  wrote  to  General  Bushrod  Johnson, 
requesting  an  army  wagon  to  be  sent  me  early  the 
next  morning,  and  all  night  was  spent  in  packing 
and  preparing  to  leave.  I  had  collected  needful 
furniture  when  I  moved  into  town  eight  months 
before. 

The  wagon  did  not  come  at  the  specified  hour. 
All  day  we  waited,  all  the  next  night  (without  our 
beds),  and  the  next  day.  As  I  looked  out  of  the 
window  in  the  twilight,  hoping  and  watching,  the 
cannonading  commenced  with  vigor,  and  a  line  of 
shells  rose  in  the  air,  describing  luminous  curves 
and  breaking  into  showers  of  fragments.  Our  gun 
will  be  next,  I  thought,  and  for  the  first  time  my 
strength  forsook  me,  and  I  wept  over  the  hopeless 
doom  which  seemed  to  await  us.  Just  then  I  heard 
the  wheels  below  my  window,  and  there  was  my 
wagon  with  four  horses. 

We  were  all  bestowed,  bag  and  baggage,  in  a  few 
minutes,  and  were  soon  safely  beyond  shell  fire.  I 
did  not  know  until  then  how  great  had  been  the 
strain  of  keeping  up  under  fire  for  three  months. 
I  literally  "  went  all  to  pieces/'  trembling  as  though 
I  had  a  chill.  When  we  arrived  at  Cottage  Farm, 
my  driver  allowed  John,  Eliza,  and  my  little  boys  to 
unload  in  the  road  before  the  lawn,  and  then  calmly 
turned  his  horses'  heads  and  drove  away. 

It  was  nine  o'clock,  we  had  no  lights,  we  had  no 
strength  to  lift  our  packages  into  the  house.  John 
advised  that  he  should  remain  on  guard  during  the 
night,  and  that  some  blankets  should  be  spread  for 


298         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

us  in  the  cottage,  and  we  proceeded  to  carry  out 
this  plan.  In  a  few  minutes,  however,  half  a  dozen 
soldiers  came  up,  and  one  of  their  officers  pleasantly 
greeted  us  as  "  welcome  neighbors,"  for  their  com- 
pany was  encamped  near  us.  They  had  seen  our 
plight  and  had  come  to  "  set  things  to  rights,"  also 
to  assure  us  of  protection. 

About  twelve  o'clock  we  found  ourselves  comfort- 
able. Our  beds  were  put  up,  our  boxes  were 
all  under  cover.  John's  commissariat  yielded  some 
biscuits,  there  was  a  well  of  pure  water  near  the 
door.  We  were  safe.  We  could  sleep.  No  shell 
could  reach  us  ! 

The  cool  freshness  of  a  lovely  September  morn- 
ing filled  our  hearts  with  life  and  hope.  A  large 
circle  of  flowers,  chrysanthemums,  dahlias,  and  late- 
blooming  roses  surrounded  the  carriage  drive  to  the 
door,  a  green  lawn  stretched  to  the  limits  of  a  large 
yard  in  the  rear,  and  beyond  this  a  garden  with  a 
few  potatoes  to  dig,  and  an  apple  tree  in  fruit  which 
the  soldiers  had  respected.  John  and  the  little 
boys  were  in  fine  spirits.  They  laid  plans  for  a 
cow,  chickens,  ducks,  and  pigeons.  The  cow  was 
purchased  at  once  from  a  neighboring  farmer,  was 
named  Rose,  and  was  installed  in  a  shelter  attached 
to  the  kitchen,  where  John  could  protect  her  from 
marauders. 

"  'Cause,"  said  John,  "  I  knows  soldiers !  They 
get  up  before  day  and  milk  your  cow  under  your 
very  eyebrows.  Ain't  you  hear  about  Gen'al  Lee 
in  Pennsylvania?  The  old  Dutch  farmers  gave  him 
Hail  Columbia  because  his  soldiers  milked  their 


Uncle  Frank  and  Aunt  Jinny  299 

cows.  Gen'al  Lee  could  keep  'em  from  stealin' 
horses,  but  the  queen  o'  England  herself  couldn't 
stop  a  soldier  when  he  hankers  after  milk.  An*  he 
don't  need  no  pail,  neither;  he  can  milk  in  his  can- 
teen an'  never  spill  a  drop." 

My  brother  had  left  two  old  family  servants, 
"  Uncle  Frank  "  and  his  wife  "Aunt  Jinny,"  as  care- 
takers of  the  premises ;  and  to  their  dignified  bear- 
ing, supplemented  by  the  presence  of  a  company  of 
honorable  soldiers,  we  were  indebted  for  the  un- 
rifled  apple  tree  and  the  tiny  potatoes,  like  marbles, 
left  after  the  autumn  digging.  "  Aunt  Jinny  "  also 
had  a  few  fowls.  An  egg  for  my  baby  was  now 
possible. 

Her  faithful  Christian  character  had  won  for  her 
a  high  place  in  the  esteem  of  the  family.  Uncle 
Frank's  manners  were  perfect, — polished,  suave,  and 
conciliatory ;  but  when  judge  and  jury  sat  upon  the 
case  of  a  culprit  arraigned  by  him,  his  testimony 
was  apt  to  be  challenged  by  his  prisoner. 

"You  knows,  Marse  Robert,  you  can't  b'lieve 
ole  Uncle  Frank  !  " 

"  Frank  always  knows  what  he  is  talking  about ! 
He  is  only  more  polite  than  the  rest  of  you." 

"  Well,  Marse  Robert,  Gawd  knows  I  hates  to 
fling  dut  at  Uncle  Frank,  but  he's  a  liar.  He 
sholy  is  !  An'  jist  'cause  he's  a  sweet  liar  he  gets  we 
all  in  trouble." 

My  father,  the  chaplain,  soon  joined  us,  his  corps 
having  camped  within  riding  distance.  There  was 
an  office  in  the  yard,  and  there  my  father  took  up 
his  abode.  His  life  was  an  active  one  among  the 


300         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

soldiers,  and  he  was  often  absent  for  days  at  a  time ; 
but  I  felt  the  protection  of  his  occasional  presence. 

My  husband  was  now  employed,  day  and  night, 
often  in  peril,  gleaning  from  every  possible  source 
information  for  General  Lee. 

One  day  Theo  and  Roger  ran  in  with  stirring 
news.  They  had  seen  General  Lee  dismount  at 
Mr.  Turnbull's,  a  short  distance  on  the  road 
beyond  us,  and  had  learned  from  Mr.  Turnbull 
himself  that  his  house  had  been  given  to  General 
Lee  for  his  headquarters,  also  that  the  General  did 
not  require  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Turnbull  to  leave,  and 
that  they  were  delighted  to  have  the  General. 

The  whole  face  of  the  earth  seemed  to  change 
immediately.  Army  wagons  crawled  unceasingly 
along  the  highroad,  just  in  front  of  our  gate.  All 
was  stir  and  life  in  the  rear,  where  there  was  another 
country  road,  and  a  short  road  connecting  the  two 
passed  immediately  by  the  well  near  our  house. 
This,  too,  was  constantly  travelled ;  the  whir  of  the 
well-wheel  never  seemed  to  pause,  day  or  night. 
We  soon  had  pleasant  visitors,  General  A.  P.  Hill, 
Colonel  William  Pegram,  General  Walker,  General 
Wilcox,  and  others.  General  Wilcox,  an  old  friend 
and  comrade,  craved  permission  to  make  his  head- 
quarters on  the  green  lawn  in  the  rear  of  the  house, 
and  my  husband  rejoiced  at  his  presence  and  pro- 
tection for  our  little  family. 

In  less  than  twenty-four  hours  I  found  myself 
in  the  centre  of  a  camp.  The  white  tents  of  Gen- 
eral Wilcox' s  staff  officers  were  stretched  close  to  the 
door. 


Household  Gods  set  up  at  Cottage  Farm     301 

When  we  left  Washington,  our  library  and  pic- 
tures had  been  sent  to  Petersburg,  and  had  remained 
there  in  a  warehouse  ever  since.  My  father  eagerly 
advised  us  to  set  up  the  library  and  hang  the  pic- 
tures in  our  new  home  at  Cottage  Farm. 

"  But  suppose  General  Lee  moves  away,"  I 
suggested. 

"  My  dear,  he  will  not  move  away  !  He  is  here 
to  protect  Petersburg  and  Richmond.  He  will 
never  surrender  either  place  —  and,  as  I  have  tried 
to  impress  upon  you,  the  safest  place  for  you  on 
this  continent  is  in  the  rear  of  Lee's  army/' 

So  timber  was  brought  for  shelving  the  dining 
room,  and  three  thousand  or  more  books  were 
arranged  on  the  shelves.  The  parlor  and  the  two 
bedrooms  (we  had  no  more  in  the  little  cottage) 
were  hung  with  the  pictures  bought  by  my  husband 
when  he  was  Minister  to  Greece.  My  favorite  — 
the  Raffaello  Morghen  proof  impression  of  the  "  Ma- 
donna della  Seggiola  "  —  hung  over  the  mantel  in 
the  parlor,  and  to  it  I  lifted  weary  eyes  many  a  time 
during  the  remaining  days  of  the  war.  Sundry 
delicate  carvings  were  also  in  the  boxes,  with  my 
music.  My  sister  had  not  taken  her  piano  with  her 
to  North  Carolina.  There  were  a  baby-house  and 
toys  in  another  box,  and  in  a  French  trunk  with 
many  compartments  some  evening  dresses,  at  which 
I  did  not  even  glance,  well  knowing  I  should  not 
need  them.  The  trunk  containing  them  was  stored 
in  the  cellar. 

We  were  happier  than  we  had  been  for  a  long  time. 
Things  seemed  to  promise  a  little  respite.  To  be 


302          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

sure,  Grant's  army  was  in  front  of  us ;  but  if  we 
could  only  avoid  a  collision  for  a  month  or  two,  the 
troops  on  both  sides  would  go  into  winter  quarters, 
and  everybody  would  have  the  rest  so  much  needed 
to  fit  them  for  the  spring  campaign. 

"  We  are  here  for  eight  years,  — not  a  day  less," 
said  my  father,  and  he  fully  believed  it. 

That  being  the  case,  it  behooved  me  to  look  after 
the  little  boys'  education.  School  books  were  found 
for  them.  I  knew  "small  Latin  and  less  Greek/'  but 
I  gravely  heard  them  recite  lessons  in  the  former; 
and  they  never  discovered  the  midnight  darkness  of 
my  mind  as  to  mathematics. 

I  knew  nothing  of  the  strong  line  of  fortifications 
which  General  Grant  was  building  at  the  back  of  the 
farm,  fortifications  strengthened  by  forts  at  short 
intervals.  Our  own  line  —  visible  from  the  garden 
—  had  fewer  forts,  two  of  which,  Fort  Gregg  and 
Battery  45,  protected  our  immediate  neighborhood. 
These  forts  occasionally  answered  a  challenge,  but 
there  was  no  attempt  at  a  sally  on  either  side. 

The  most  painful  circumstance  connected  with 
our  position  was  the  picket  firing  at  night,  incessant, 
like  the  dropping  of  hail,  and  harrowing  from  the 
apprehension  that  many  a  man  fell  from  the  fire  of 
a  picket.  But,  perhaps  to  reassure  me,  Captain 
Lindsay  and  Captain  Glover  of  General  Wilcox's 
staff  declared  that  "  pickets  have  a  good  time, 
They  fire,  yes,  for  that  is  their  business ;  but 
while  they  load  for  the  next  volley,  one  will  call 
out,  c  Hello,  Reb,'  be  answered,  £  Hello,  Yank,'  and 
little  parcels  of  coffee  are  thrown  across  in  exchange 


Stories  about  Friendly  Pickets  303 

for  a  plug  of  tobacco."  After  accepting  this  fiction 
I  could  sleep  better. 

Nothing  could  better  illustrate  the  fact  that  this 
war  was  not  a  war  of  the  men  at  the  guns,  than  one 
of  General  John  B.  Gordon's  anecdotes.1 

A  short  distance  from  Blandford  was  the  strong 
work  on  the  Federal  line  called  Fort  Steadman.  It 
was  determined  to  take  this  by  assault.  There  were 
obstructions  in  front  of  our  lines  which  had  to  be  re- 
moved. The  lines  were  so  close  this  could  only  be 
done  under  cover  of  darkness.  Then  there  were 
obstructions  to  be  removed  from  the  front  of  Fort 
Steadman,  and  an  immediate  rush  to  be  made  before 
the  gunners  could  fire. 

This  delicate  and  hazardous  duty  was  successfully 
performed  by  General  Gordon,  near  the  close  of 
the  war,  and  was  the  last  time  the  stars  and  bars 
were  carried  to  aggressive  assault. 

About  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  our  axemen 
were  quietly  at  work  on  our  obstacle  when  the  un- 
avoidable noise  attracted  the  notice  of  a  Federal 
picket.  In  the  black  darkness  he  called  out :  — 

<£  Hello  there,  Johnny  Reb !  What  are  you 
making  all  that  fuss  about  over  there  ? " 

Our  men  were  leaning  forward  for  the  start,  and 
General  Gordon  was  for  a  moment  disconcerted  ;  but 
a  rifleman  answered  in  a  cheerful  voice :  — 

"  Oh,  never  mind  us,  Yank  !  Lie  down  and  go 
to  sleep  !  We  are  just  gathering  a  little  corn  ;  you 
know  rations  are  mighty  short  over  here ! " 

There  was  a  patch  of  corn  between  the  lines,  some 

1  "Camp-fire  and  Battle-field,"  p.  489. 


304         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

still  hanging  on  the  stalks.  After  a  few  moments 
there  came  back  the  kindly  reply  of  the  Yankee 
picket :  — 

"  All  right,  Johnny,  go  ahead  and  get  your  corn. 
I  won't  shoot  at  you." 

General  Gordon  was  about  to  give  the  command 
to  go  forward,  when  the  rifleman  showed  some  com- 
punctions of  conscience  for  having  used  deception 
which  might  result  in  the  picket's  death,  by  calling 
out  loudly :  — 

"  Look  out  for  yourself  now,  Yank !  We're 
going  to  shell  the  woods." 

Such  exhibitions  of  true  kindness  and  comradeship 
were  not  uncommon  during  the  war. 

On  a  hill  a  short  distance  off  was  the  farmhouse 
of  "  old  Billy  Green,"  as  he  was  known  to  his 
neighbors.  He  had  a  good  wife,  kind  to  me  and  to 
everybody,  and  a  fine-looking,  amiable  daughter, 
Nannie  Green.  These  were  my  only  female  ac- 
quaintances. Nannie  soon  became  an  out-and-out 
belle  —  the  only  young  lady  in  the  neighborhood. 
Tender  songs  were  paraphrased  in  her  honor ;  Ben 
Bolt's  Sweet  Alice  became  "  Sweet  Nannie,"  and 
"  Sweet  Annie  of  the  Vale  "  easily  became  "  Sweet 
Nannie  of  the  Hill."  I  was  very  stern  with  the 
young  officers  around  me,  about  Nannie  Green. 
She  was  a  modest,  dignified  girl,  and  I  did  not 
intend  to  have  her  spoiled,  nor  her  father  ridi- 
culed. 

I  found  some  cut-glass  champagne  glasses  in  one 
of  my  boxes.  Every  night  a  request  would  come 
from  Captain  Lindsay,  or  Captain  Glover,  or  some 


Nannie  Green  305 

other  of  my  staff  tenants,  for  a  champagne  glass. 
At  last  I  asked :  — 

"  Why  do  you  limit  yourselves  to  one  glass  ? " 

"  Oh,  we  don't  drink  from  it.  We  have  no  wine, 
you  know." 

It  appeared  upon  investigation  that  they  cut  pro- 
file pictures  of  Nannie  Green  out  of  paper,  laid  this 
cut  paper  on  another,  weighting  it  down  with  bullets, 
and  turned  the  glass  over  it.  As  they  sat  around 
the  table  smoking,  each  one  would  lift  a  little  edge 
of  the  glass  and  blow  the  smoke  under  it,  shutting 
down  quickly.  When  the  smoking  was  over,  and 
glass  and  paper  were  lifted,  there  was  a  pure  white 
silhouette  of  Nannie's  face  on  an  amber-colored 
background,  cameo-like  in  effect.  The  face  would 
be  delicately  shaded,  soulful  eyes  added,  and  — 
voila  ! 

"  Why  was  I  not  to  know  this  ? "  I  asked  sternly. 

"  Because  we  feared  you  would  lend  us  no  more 
glasses." 

"  So  it  appears  you  all  have  a  young  lady's  picture 
without  her  consent? " 

"  Why  not  ?  "  they  pleaded.  "  Isn't  she  perfectly 
welcome  to  ours  ?  " 

"Do  you  expect  her  to  exchange,  for  something 
she  doesn't  want,  something  which  you  do  want  ? " 

"  Well,  we  think  she  might,"  said  one,  ruefully. 
"  If  her  shadow  can  comfort  a  poor  fellow's  cold  and 
lonely  evening,  she  might  spare  it.  She  can't 
possibly  miss  it." 

I  never  refused  to  lend  them  the  glasses. 


CHAPTER  XX 

ARRIVING    AT     EXTREMITIES 

MY  husband's  duties  kept  him  from  home 
several  days  at  a  time  during  the  early 
autumn,  but  now  that  the  lines  were  drawn 
so  closely  together,  he  could  usually  return  to  us 
after  reporting  to  General  Lee  at  night.  I  had 
ceased  to  feel  anxious  when  he  rode  away  in  the 
morning  on  his  gray  horse,  Jubal  Early.  Jubal  had 
brought  him  safely  through  many  a  difficulty.  Once 
he  found  himself  suddenly  confronted  by  a  small 
company  of  Federals  aligned  for  drill.  He  saluted, 
as  if  he  were  an  officer  on  inspection,  rode  gravely 
past  the  line,  and  then  Jubal's  fleet  feet  dashed  quite 
out  of  range  before  the  volley  which  followed  the 
discovery  of  his  ruse. 

One  frosty  morning  I  was  writing  letters,  —  to 
Agnes,  to  my  mother,  to  my  little  girls  in  Char- 
lotte, expressing  the  gratitude  of  my  heart  for  the 
new  blessings  of  the  hour,  —  when  General  Wilcox 
entered,  and  took  his  accustomed  stand  before  the 
fire. 

"Madam,"  he  commenced,  "is  the  General  at 
home  ? " 

"  No,  General,  he  did  not  return  last  night/' 

"  You  are  not  uneasy  ?  " 

306 


Capture  of  General  Pry  or  307 

"  Not  a  bit.  He  sometimes  stops  at  Mrs.  Friend's 
when  he  is  belated.  She's  his  cousin,  you  know." 

"  Of  course  !  "  laughed  the  General.  "  All  the 
pretty  women  in  Virginia  are  cousins  to  the  Vir- 
ginia officers.  Couldn't  you  naturalize  a  few  un- 
fortunates who  were  not  born  in  Virginia  ?  " 

I  was  sealing  and  stamping  my  letters,  and  looked 
up  without  immediately  answering  his  badinage.  To 
my  surprise  his  face  was  pale  and  his  lip  quivering. 

"  You  have  to  know  it,"  said  he.  "  The  General 
will  not  return.  The  Yankees  caught  him  this 
morning." 

"  Oh,  impossible  !"  I  exclaimed.  "Jubal  never 
fails." 

"  Look  out  of  the  window,"  said  the  general. 

There  stood  Jubal !  A  groom  was  removing  his 
saddle.  General  Wilcox  most  kindly  hastened  to 
reassure  me.  "It  will  be  all  right,"  he  declared. 
"  A  little  rest  for  the  General,  and  we  will  soon 
exchange  him." 

I  was  completely  stunned.  I  had  never  expected 
this.  My  head  reeled.  My  heart  sickened  within 
me. 

As  I  sat  thus,  shivering  beside  the  fire,  I  heard 
the  clank  of  spurs,  and  looked  up.  An  officer  was 
at  the  door. 

"  Madam,"  he  said,  "  General  Lee  sends  you  his 
affectionate  sympathies." 

Through  the  open  window  I  saw  the  General  on 
his  horse,  Traveller,  standing  at  the  well.  He  waited 
until  his  messenger  returned,  and  then  rode  slowly 
toward  the  lines. 


308          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

I  had  small  hope  of  the  speedy  exchange  prom- 
ised me  by  General  Wilcox.  From  day  to  day  he 
reported  the  efforts  made  for  my  husband's  release 
and  their  failure.  General  Lee  authorized  a  letter 
to  General  Meade,  detailing  the  circumstances  of  his 
capture  and  requesting  his  release.  General  Meade 
promptly  refused  to  release  him. 

We  naturally  looked  to  the  enemy  for  all  infor- 
mation, and  although  my  husband  had  written  me 
a  pencilled  note  at  City  Point  on  the  inside  of  a 
Confederate  envelope,  and  had  implored  his  guard 
(a  Federal  officer)  to  have  it  inserted  in  a  New  York 
paper,  I  did  not  receive  it  until  thirty-one  years 
afterward.  We  soon  had  news,  however,  through 
a  despatch  from  the  North  Army  Corps  to  the  New 
York  Herald.  The  paper  of  November  30,  1864, 
contained  the  following  :  — 

"  Yesterday  a  rebel  officer  made  his  appearance  in 
front  of  our  lines,  waving  a  paper  for  exchange.  The 
officer  in  charge  of  the  picket,  suddenly  remembering 
that  Major  Burrage,  of  the  Thirty-sixth  Massa- 
chusetts, was  taken  prisoner  some  time  since  by  the 
enemy  while  on  a  similar  errand,  'gobbled*  the  rebel, 
who  proved  to  be  the  famous  Roger  A.  Pryor,  ex- 
member  of  Congress  and  ex-brigadier-general  of  Jeff 
Davis's  army.  He  protested  vehemently  against 
what  he  styled  a  flagrant  breach  of  faith  on  our  part. 
He  was  assured  he  was  taken  in  retaliation  for  like 
conduct  on  the  part  of  his  friends,  and  sent  to  Gen- 
eral Meade's  headquarters  for  further  disposition." 

Press  despatch  to  Herald^  November  30,  from 
Washington,  "  Roger  A.  Pryor  has  been  brought 


News  of  the  General's  Fate  309 

to  Washington,  and  committed  to  the  old  Capitol 
Prison." 

Herald,  December  i,  1864,  "  Pry  or  was  ferried 
over  to  Fort  Lafayette,  where  he  is  now  confined." 

Then  later  I  received  a  personal  through  The 
News:  "To  Mrs.  R.  A.  Pryor.  Your  husband  is 
in  Fort  Lafayette,  where  a  friend  and  relative  is  per- 
mitted to  visit  him.  —  [Signed]  MARY  RHODES." 

Not  until  December,  1864,  could  Colonel  Ould 
arrange  to  have  a  letter  from  me  sent  through  the 
lines.  All  letters  from  and  to  prisoners  were  exam- 
ined by  Federal  officials. 

On  the  2Oth  of  December  I  received  a  brief  note 
from  Fort  Lafayette :  "My  philosophy  begins  to 
fail  somewhat.  In  vain  I  seek  some  argument  of 
consolation.  I  see  no  chance  of  release.  The  con- 
ditions of  my  imprisonment  cut  me  off  from  every 
resource  of  happiness." 

I  learned  afterward  that  he  was  ill,  and  under  the 
care  of  a  physician  all  winter,  but  he  tried  to  write 
as  encouragingly  as  possible.  In  February,  how- 
ever, he  failed  in  health  and  spirits,  but  bore  up 
bravely  :  — 

"  I  am  as  contented  as  is  compatible  with  my  con- 
dition. My  mind  is  ill  at  ease  from  my  solicitude 
for  my  family  and  my  country.  Every  disaster 
pierces  my  soul  like  an  arrow ;  and  I  am  afflicted 
with  the  thought  that  I  am  denied  the  privilege  of 

contributing  even  my  mite  to  the  deliverance  of . 

How  I  envy  my  old  comrades  their  hardships  and 
privations.  I  have  little  hope  of  an  early  exchange, 
and  you  may  be  assured  my  mistrust  is  not  without 


310         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

reason.  Except  some  special  instance  be  employed  to 
procure  my  release^  my  detention  here  will  be  indefinite. 
I  cannot  be  more  explicit.  While  this  is  my  con- 
viction, I  wish  it  distinctly  understood  that  I  would 
not  have  my  government  compromise  any  scruple 
for  the  sake  of  my  liberation.  I  am  prepared  for 
any  contingency  —  am  fortified  against  any  reverse 
of  fortune." 

The  problem  now  confronting  me  was  this:  How 
could  I  maintain  my  children  and  myself?  My 
husband's  rations  were  discontinued.  My  only 
supply  of  food  was  from  my  father's  ration  as  chap- 
lain. I  had  a  part  of  a  barrel  of  flour  which  a  rela- 
tive had  sent  me  from  a  county  now  cut  off  from 
us.  Quite  a  number  of  my  old  Washington  servants 
had  followed  me,  to  escape  the  shelling,  but  they 
could  not,  of  course,  look  to  me  for  their  support. 
I  frankly  told  John  and  Eliza  my  condition,  but 
they  elected  to  remain.  One  day  John  presented 
himself  with  a  heart-broken  countenance  and  a 
drooping  attitude  of  deep  dejection.  He  had  a  sad 
story  to  tell.  The  agent  of  the  estate  to  which 
he  belonged  was  in  town,  and  John  had  been 
commissioned  to  inform  me  that  all  the  slaves  be- 
longing to  the  estate  were  to  be  immediately  trans- 
ferred to  a  Louisiana  plantation  for  safety.  Those 
of  us  who  had  hired  these  servants  by  the  year  were 
to  be  indemnified  for  our  loss. 

"  How  do  you  feel  about  it,  John  ?  "  I  asked. 

The  poor  fellow  broke  down.  "  It  will  kill  me," 
he  declared.  "  I'll  soon  die  on  that  plantation." 

All  his  affectionate,  faithful  service,  all  his  hard- 


-^Purchase  of  a  Faithful  Servant  311 

ships  for  our  sakes,  the  Averill  raid,  rushed  upon 
my  memory.  I  bade  him  put  me  in  communication 
with  the  agent.  I  found  that  I  could  save  the  boy 
only  by  buying  him.  A  large  sum  of  gold  was  named 
as  the  price.  I  unbuckled  my  girdle  and  counted 
my  handful  of  gold  —  one  hundred  and  six  dollars. 
These  I  offered  to  the  agent  (who  was  a  noted  negro 
trader),  and  although  it  was  far  short  of  his  figures, 
he  made  out  my  bill  of  sale  receipted. 

When  John  appeared  with  smiling  face  he  in- 
formed me  with  his  thanks  that  he  belonged  to  me. 

"  You  are  a  free  man,  John,"  I  said.  "  I  will  make 
out  your  papers  and  I  can  very  easily  arrange  for 
you  to  pass  the  lines." 

"  I  know  that,"  he  said.  "  Marse  Roger  has 
often  told  me  I  was  a  free  man.  I  never  will  leave 
you  till  I  die.  Papers  indeed  !  Papers  nothing  !  I 
belong  to  you — that's  where  I  belong." 

All  that  dreadful  winter  he  was  faithful  to  his 
promise,  cheerfully  bearing,  without  wages,  all  the 
privations  of  the  time.  Sometimes,  when  the  last 
atom  of  food  was  gone,  he  would  ask  for  money, 
sally  forth  with  a  horse  and  light  cart,  and  bring  in 
peas  and  dried  apples.  Once  a  week  we  were  allowed 
to  purchase  the  head  of  a  bullock,  horns  and  all, 
from  the  commissary  ;  and  a  small  ration  of  rice  was 
allowed  us  by  the  government.  A  one-armed  boy, 
Alick,  who  had  been  reared  in  my  father's  family, 
now  wandered  in  to  find  his  old  master,  and  installed 
himself  as  my  father's  servant. 

The  question  that  pressed  upon  me  day  and  night 
was:  How,  where,  can  I  earn  some  money?  to  be 


312          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

answered  by  the  frightful  truth  that  there  could  be 
no  opening  for  me  anywhere,  because  I  could  not 
leave  my  children. 

One  wakeful  night,  while  I  was  revolving  these 
things,  a  sudden  thought  darted,  unbidden,  into  my 
sorely  oppressed  mind  :  — 

"  Why  not  open  the  trunk  from  Washington  ? 
Something  may  be  found  there  which  can  be  sold." 

At  an  early  hour  next  morning  John  and  Alick 
brought  the  trunk  from  the  cellar.  Aunt  Jinny, 
Eliza,  and  the  children  gathered  around.  It  proved 
to  be  full  of  my  old  Washington  finery.  There  were 
a  half-dozen  or  more  white  muslin  gowns,  flounced 
and  trimmed  with  Valenciennes  lace,  many  yards  ; 
there  was  a  rich  bayadere  silk  gown  trimmed  fully 
with  guipure  lace ;  a  green  silk  dress  with  gold 
embroidery;  a  blue  and  silver  brocade, — these  last 
evening  gowns.  There  was  a  paper  box  containing 
the  shaded  roses  I  had  worn  to  Lady  Napier's  ball, 
the  ball  at  which  Mrs.  Douglas  and  I  had  dressed 
alike  in  gowns  of  tulle.  Another  box  held  the  gar- 
niture of  green  leaves  and  gold  grapes  which  had 
belonged  to  the  green  silk  ;  and  still  another  the 
blue  and  silver  feathers  for  the  brocade.  An  opera 
cloak  trimmed  with  fur ;  a  long  purple  velvet  cloak ; 
a  purple  velvet  "  coalscuttle  "  bonnet,  trimmed  with 
white  roses  ;  a  point  lace  handkerchief;  Valenciennes 
lace;  Brussels  lace  ;  and  at  the  bottom  of  the  trunk 
a  package  of  del  blue  zephyr,  awakening  reminis- 
cences of  a  passion  which  I  had  cherished  for 
knitting  shawls  and  "  mariposas  "  of  zephyr,  —  such 
was  the  collection  I  had  discovered. 


Contents  of  a  Trunk,  and  their  Uses      313 

The  velvet  cloak  had  come  to  grief.  Somebody 
had  put  the  handsome  books  President  Pierce  had 
given  me  into  this  box,  for  special  safe-keeping ; 
and  all  these  years  the  cloak  had  cushioned  the 
books  so  that  they  made  no  inroads  upon  the  other 
articles,  and  had  given  up  its  own  life  in  their  pro- 
tection. Not  an  inch  of  the  garment  was  ever  fit 
for  use.  It  was  generously  printed  all  over  with  the 
large  cords  and  tassels  of  its  own  trimming. 

These  were  my  materials.  I  must  make  them 
serve  for  the  support  of  my  family. 

I  ripped  all  the  lace  from  the  evening  gowns,  and 
made  it  into  collars  and  undersleeves.  John  found 
an  extinct  dry-goods  store  where  clean  paper  boxes 
could  be  had. 

My  first  instalment  of  lace  collars  was  sent  to 
Price's  store  in  Richmond  and  promptly  sold.  Mr. 
Price  wrote  me  that  all  of  my  articles  would  find 
purchasers.  There  were  ladies  in  Richmond  who 
could  afford  to  buy,  and  the  Confederate  court 
offered  opportunities  for  display. 

Admiral  Porter  records  the  capture  of  a  block- 
ade-runner whose  valuable  goods  included  many 
commissions  for  "  ladies  at  court.  In  the  cabin  of 
the  vessel/*  says  the  admiral,  "  was  a  pile  of  band- 
boxes in  which  were  charming  little  bonnets  marked 
with  the  owners*  names.  It  would  have  given  me 
much  pleasure  to  have  forwarded  them  to  their  des- 
tination "  (the  admiral  had  ever  a  weakness  for 
Southern  ladies)  "  but  the  laws  forbade  our  giving 
aid  and  comfort  to  the  enemy,  so  all  the  French 
bonnets,  cloaks,  shoes,  and  other  feminine  bric-a- 


314         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

brae  had  to  go  to  New  York  for  condemnation  by 
the  Admiralty  Court,  and  were  sold  at  public  auction. 

"These  bonnets,  laces,  and  other  vanities  rather 
clashed  with  the  idea  I  had  formed  of  the  Southern 
ladies,  as  I  heard  that  all  they  owned  went  to  the 
hospitals,  and  that  they  never  spent  a  cent  on  their 
personal  adornment ;  but  human  nature/'  sagely 
opines  the  admiral,  "  is  the  same  the  world  over, 
and  ladies  will  indulge  in  their  little  vanities  in  spite 
of  war  and  desolation."  1  To  these  vanities  I  now 
found  myself  indebted. 

The  zeal  with  which   I  worked  knew  no  pause. 

I  needed  no  rest.     General  Wilcox,  who  was  in  the 

saddle  until  a  late  hour   every   night,  said  to   me, 

"  Your  candle  is  the  last  light  I  see  at  night  —  the 

first  in  the  morning." 

"  I  should  never  sleep,"  I  told  him. 

One  day  I  consulted  Eliza  about  the  manufacture 
of  a  Confederate  candle.  We  knew  how  to  make 
it  —  by  drawing  a  cotton  rope  many  times  through 
melted  wax,  and  then  winding  it  around  a  bottle. 
We  could  get  wax,  but  our  position  was  an  exposed 
one.  Soldiers'  tents  were  close  around  us,  and  we 
scrupulously  avoided  any  revelation  of  our  needs, 
lest  they  should  deny  themselves  for  our  sakes. 
Eliza  thought  we  might  avail  ourselves  of  the  ab- 
sence of  the  officers,  and  finish  our  work  before 
they  returned.  We  made  our  candle;  but  that 
night,  as  I  sat  sewing  beside  its  dim,  glow-worm 
light,  I  heard  a  step  in  the  hall,  and  a  hand,  hastily 
thrust  out,  placed  a  brown  paper  parcel  on  the 

1  Porter's  "Anecdotes  and  Incidents  of  the  Civil  War,"  p.  274. 


Aunt  Jinny  takes  Care  of  our  Souls      315 

piano  near  the  door.  It  was  a  soldier's  ration  of 
candles ! 

After  I  had  converted  all  my  laces  into  collars, 
cuffs,  and  sleeves,  and  had  sold  my  silk  gowns, 
opera  cloak,  and  point  lace  handkerchiefs,  I  devoted 
myself  to  trimming  the  edges  of  the  artificial  flowers, 
and  separating  the  long  wreaths  and  garlands  into 
clusters  for  hats  and  bouquets  de  corsage. 

Eliza  and  the  children  delighted  in  this  phase  of 
my  work,  and  begged  to  assist,  —  all  except  Aunt 
Jinny. 

"  Honey,"  she  said,  "  don't  you  think,  in  these 
times  of  trouble,  you  might  do  better  than  tempt 
them  po'  young  lambs  in  Richmond  to  worship  the 
golden  calf  and  bow  down  to  mammon?  We  prays 
not  to  be  led  into  temptation,  and  you  sho'ly  is 
leadin'  'em  into  vanity." 

"  Maybe  so,  Aunt  Jinny,  but  I  must  sell  all  I 
can.  We  have  to  be  clothed,  you  know,  war  or  no 


war." 


"  Yes,  my  chile,  that's  so ;  but  we're  told  to  con- 
sider the  lilies.  Gawd  Almighty  tells  us  we  must 
clothe  ourselves  in  the  garment  of  righteousness, 
and  He  —  " 

"  You  always  'pear  to  be  mighty  intimate  with 
God  A'mighty,"  interrupted  Eliza,  in  great  wrath. 
"  Now  you  just  go  'long  home  an'  leave  my  mistis 
to  her  work.  How  would  you  look  with  nothin'  on 
but  a  garment  of  righteousness  ?  " 

When  I  had  stripped  the  pretty  muslin  gowns  of 
their  trimmings,  what  could  be  done  with  the  gowns 
themselves  ?  Finally  I  resolved  to  embroider  them 


316         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

with  the  blue  zephyr.  I  rolled  the  edges  of  the 
flounces,  and  edged  them  delicately  with  a  spiral 
line  of  blue.  I  traced  with  blue  a  dainty  vine  of 
forget-me-nots  on  bodice  and  sleeves,  with  a  result 
that  was  simply  ravishing ! 

My  first  purchase  was  a  barrel  of  flour,  for  which  I 
paid  thirteen  hundred  dollars.  John  made  hot  bis- 
cuits three  times  a  day  thereafter.  As  the  winter  wore 
on,  and  the  starvation  became  stern  in  the  army,  a  sol- 
dier would  occasionally  bring  to  the  kitchen  his  ration 
of  a  small  square  of  beef  to  be  cooked,  or  eight  grains 
of  coffee  to  trade  with  John  for  a  few  biscuits.  I 
sternly  forbade  the  trade,  and  ordered  John  to  grind 
the  coffee  in  the  owner's  presence,  mix  it  with  our 
toasted  corn,  and  give  him  the  biscuits,  with  a  good, 
strengthening  drink.  Often  a  brown  hand  would 
place  a  tiny  bundle  on  the  piano,  as  the  donor  passed 
through  the  hall,  and  my  heart  would  ache  to  find 
it  contained  a  soldier's  ration  of  coffee.  My  dear 
father  had  friends  among  his  old  parishioners  who 
never  allowed  him  to  do  without  his  coffee — a  neces- 
sity for  a  man  who  never,  under  any  circumstances, 
fortified  his  strength  with  ardent  spirits.  He  was 
almost  fanatical  on  the  total  abstinence  subject. 

Of  course  I  could  not  command  shoes  for  my 
boys.  I  made  them  of  carpet  lined  with  flannel  for 
my  baby.  I  could  in  one  day  make  a  pair  which 
she  wore  out  in  three  !  A  piece  of  bronze  morocco 
fell  into  my  hands,  of  which  I  made  a  pair  of  boots 
for  my  little  daughter,  Mary,  and  out  of  an  old 
leather  pocket-book  and  two  or  three  leather  bags 
which  Alick  found  in  his  prowling  over  the  fields,  a 


Capture  of  Rev.  Theodorick  Pryor        317 

soldier-shoemaker  contrived  shoes  for  each  of  the 
boys. 

My  own  prime  necessity  was  for  the  steel  we 
women  wear  in  front  of  our  stays.  I  suffered  so 
much  for  want  of  this  accustomed  support,  that 
Captain  Lindsay  had  a  pair  made  for  me  by  the 
government  gunsmith. 

The  time  came  when  the  salable  contents  of  the 
Washington  trunk  were  all  gone.  I  then  cut  up 
my  husband's  dress-coat,  and  designed  well-fitting 
ladies'  gloves,  with  gauntlets  made  of  the  watered 
silk  lining.  Of  an  interlining  of  gray  flannel  I  made 
gray  gloves,  and  this  glove  manufacture  yielded 
me  hundreds  of  dollars.  Thirteen  small  fragments 
of  flannel  were  left  after  the  gloves  were  finished. 
Of  these,  pieced  together,  I  made  a  pair  of  drawers 
for  my  Willy  —  my  youngest  boy. 

The  lines  around  us  were  now  so  closely  drawn 
that  my  father  returned  home  after  short  absences 
of  a  day  or  two.  But  we  were  made  anxious,  dur- 
ing a  heavy  snow  early  in  December,  by  a  more 
prolonged  absence.  Finally  he  appeared,  on  foot, 
hatless,  and  exhausted.  He  had  been  captured  by 
a  party  of  cavalrymen.  He  had  told  them  of  his 
non-combatant  position,  but  when  he  asked  for  re- 
lease, they  shook  their  heads.  At  night  they  all 
prepared  to  bivouac  upon  the  ground,  assigned  to 
him  a  sheltered  spot,  gave  him  a  good  supper  and 
blankets,  and  left  him  to  his  repose.  As  the  night 
wore  on  and  all  grew  still,  he  raised  his  head  cau- 
tiously to  reconnoitre,  and  to  his  surprise  found 
himself  at  some  distance  from  the  guard  —  but  his 


318         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

horse  tied  to  a  tree  within  the  circle  around  the  fire. 
My  father  took  the  hint,  and  quietly  walked  away 
unchallenged.  "  Which  proves,  my  dear,"  he  said, 
"  that  a  clergyman  is  not  worth  as  much  as  a  good 
horse  in  time  of  war." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

A    WINTER    OF    WANT 

I  RESOLVED  to  give  my  family  a  Christmas 
dinner.  John  invented  a  method  of  making 
a  perfectly  satisfactory  pie  out  of  sorghum 
molasses,  thickened  with  a  little  flour,  mixed  with 
walnut  meats,  and  baked  in  a  "raised"  crust.  He 
prepared  a  number  of  these.  I  bought  a  piece  of 
corned  beef  for  fifty  dollars.  This  was  boiled  with 
peas.  But  just  as  we  were  about  to  gather  around 
the  table,  we  saw  a  forlorn  company  of  soldiers  pass- 
ing the  door.  They  had  gone  out  on  some  raid  a 
week  before.  The  snow  was  falling  fast,  the  soldiers 
walked  wearily,  with  dejected  countenances.  "  Boys/* 
I  said,  "  are  you  willing  to  send  the  dish  of  beef  and 
peas  out  to  them  ? "  They  agreed,  if  only  they 
might  carry  it ;  and  the  brave  little  fellows  liked 
the  pleasure  they  gave  more  than  they  would  have 
enjoyed  the  dinner.  They  were  full  of  it  for  days 
afterward. 

We  had  grown  very  fond  of  some  of  the  men 
around  us,  and  my  boys  were  so  rich  in  their  com- 
panionship, that  they  never  complained  of  their  pri- 
vations. They  were  good,  wholesome  comrades, 
interested  in  our  books  and  in  the  boys'  studies. 
Captain  Lindsay  and  Captain  Glover  of  General 

319 


320          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

Wilcox's  staff  were  great  comforts.  General  A.  P. 
Hill  and  Colonel  William  Pegram  came  often  to  see 
us.  General  Lee  often  passed  the  door  on  his  way 
to  the  lines,  and  paused  to  inquire  concerning  our 
welfare.  I  established  a  little  circulating  library  for 
dear  Colonel  Pegram  and  our  own  officers.  The 
books  were  always  faithfully  returned,  with  warm 
thanks  for  the  comfort  they  gave. 

The  month  of  January  brought  us  sleet  and  storm. 
Our  famine  grew  sterner  every  day.  Poor  little 
Rose,  my  cow,  could  yield  only  one  cupful  of  milk, 
so  small  was  her  ration ;  but  we  never  thought  of 
turning  the  faithful  animal  into  beef.  The  officers 
in  my  yard  spared  her  something  every  day  from  the 
food  of  their  horses. 

The  days  were  so  dark  and  cheerless,  the  news 
from  the  armies  at  a  distance  so  discouraging,  it  was 
hard  to  preserve  a  cheerful  demeanor  for  the  sake 
of  the  family.  And  now  began  the  alarming  tidings, 
every  morning,  of  the  desertions  during  the  night. 
General  Wilcox  wondered  how  long  his  brigade  would 
hold  together  at  the  rate  of  fifty  desertions  every 
twenty-four  hours. 

The  common  soldier  had  enlisted,  not  to  establish 
the  right  of  secession,  not  for  love  of  the  slave,  —  he 
had  no  slaves,  —  but  simply  to  resist  the  invasion  of 
the  South  by  the  North,  simply  to  prevent  sub- 
jugation. The  soldier  of  the  rank  and  file  was  not 
always  intellectual  or  cultivated.  He  cared  little  for 
politics,  less  for  slavery.  He  did  care,  however, 
for  his  own  soil,  his  own  little  farm,  his  own  humble 
home  ;  and  he  was  willing  to  fight  to  drive  the  invader 


Desertion  —  but  not  to  the  Enemy        321 

from  it.  Lincoln's  Emancipation  Proclamation  did 
not  stimulate  him  in  the  least.  The  negro,  free  or 
slave,  was  of  no  consequence  to  him.  His  quarrel 
was  a  sectional  one,  and  he  fought  for  his  section. 

In  any  war,  the  masses  rarely  trouble  themselves 
about  the  merits  of  the  quarrel.  Their  pugnacity  and 
courage  are  aroused  and  stimulated  by  the  enthusiasm 
of  their  comrades,  or  by  their  own  personal  wrongs 
and  perils. 

Now,  in  January,  1865,  the  common  soldier  per- 
ceived that  the  cause  was  lost.  He  could  read  its 
doom  in  the  famine  around  him,  in  the  faces  of 
his  officers,  in  tidings  from  abroad.  His  wife  and 
children  were  suffering.  His  duty  was  now  to  them; 
so  he  stole  away  in  the  darkness,  and,  in  infinite 
danger  and  difficulty,  found  his  way  back  to  his  own 
fireside.  He  deserted,  but  not  to  the  enemy. 

But  what  can  we  say  of  the  soldier  who  remained 
unflinchingly  at  his  post  knowing  the  cause  was  lost 
for  which  he  was  called  to  meet  death  ?  Heroism 
can  attain  no  loftier  height  than  this. 

Sir  Charles  Napier,1  in  his  campaign  against  the 
robber  tribes  of  Upper  Scinde,  found  that  the  hills- 
men  had  a  custom  of  binding,  with  a  scarlet  thread, 
the  wrist  of  a  leader  who  fell  after  some  distinguished 
act  of  courage.  They  thus  honored  the  hand  that 
had  wielded  a  valiant  sword. 

A  party  of  eleven  English  soldiers  were  once  sepa- 
rated from  their  fellows,  and  mistook  a  signal  for  an 
order  to  charge.  The  brave  fellows  answered  with 
a  cheer.  On  a  summit  in  front  of  them  was  a 

1  " Robertson's  Life  and  Letters,"  edited  by  S.  A.  Brooke,  p.  804. 
Y 


3  2  2          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

breastwork  manned  by  seventy  of  the  foe.  On  they 
went,  charging  up  the  fearful  path,  eleven  against 
seventy.  There  could  be  but  one  result.  When 
their  comrades  arrived  to  aid  them,  every  one  of  the 
British  soldiers  was  dead  —  and  around  both  wrists 
of  every  one  was  twined  the  red  thread ! 

And  so  I  am  sure  that  to  every  man  who  fell  in 
that  last  hopeless  fight,  our  brave  foes  will  award  the 
red  badge  of  honor  —  as  our  own  hearts  will  ever 
strive  to  deserve  it  for  their  sakes. 

The  horror  of  military  execution  was  now  upon 
us.  Nothing  so  distressed  my  father  and  myself.  Fi- 
nally General  Lee  offered  the  men  who  had  deserted 
a  last  opportunity  to  wipe  out  their  disgrace  and 
escape  the  punishment  of  their  crimes.  He  granted, 
by  authority  of  the  government,  amnesty  to  those 
who  would  report  to  the  nearest  officer  on  duty 
within  twenty  days,  thus  giving  them  the  privilege 
of  reentering  the  service  in  companies  where  they 
would  not  be  known. 

"  Let  us,"  said  the  general,  "  oppose  constancy 
to  adversity,  fortitude  to  suffering,  and  courage  to 
danger,  with  the  firm  assurance  that  He  who  gave 
freedom  to  our  fathers  will  bless  the  efforts  of  their 
children  to  preserve  it." 

Alas !  few  availed  themselves  of  this  solemn 
appeal  to  their  manhood. 

Meanwhile  we  received  occasional  letters  from  our 
prisoner  in  Fort  Lafayette.  He  was  confined  in  a 
casemate  with  about  twenty  men.  A  small  grate 
for  burning  coal  sufficed  for  the  preparation  of  their 
rations,  which  were  issued  to  them  raw.  They  lay 


A  Psalm  of  Life  323 

upon  straw  mats  on  the  floor.  Once  daily  they 
could  walk  upon  the  ramparts,  and  my  husband's 
eyes  turned  sadly  to  the  dim  outlines  of  the  beauti- 
ful city  where  he  had  often  been  an  honored  guest. 
The  veil  which  hid  from  him  so  much  of  the  grief 
and  struggle  of  the  future  hid  also  the  reward. 
Little  did  he  dream  he  should  administer  justice  on 
the  supreme  bench  of  the  mist-veiled  city. 

His  letters  bore  but  one  theme,  his  earnest  prayer 
for  exchange,  so  that  he  might  do  his  part  in  our 
defence. 

One  night  all  these  things  weighed  more  heavily 
than  usual  upon  me,  —  the  picket  firing,  the  famine, 
the  military  executions,  the  dear  one  "  sick  and  in 
prison."  I  sighed  audibly,  and  my  son,  Theodo- 
rick,  who  slept  near  me,  asked  the  cause,  adding, 
"  Why  can  you  not  sleep,  dear  mother  ?  " 

"  Suppose,"  I  replied,  "  you  repeat  something  for 
me." 

He  at  once  commenced,  "  Tell  me  not  in  mourn- 
ful numbers  "  —  and  repeated  the  "  Psalm  of  Life."  I 
did  not  sleep ;  those  brave  words  were  not  strong 
enough  for  the  situation. 

He  paused,  and  presently  his  young  voice  broke 
the  stillness :  — 

"  Bless  the  Lord,  O  my  soul,  and  all  that  is 
within  me,  bless  His  holy  name"  —  going  on  to 
the  end  of  the  beautiful  psalm  of  adoration  and  faith 
which  nineteen  centuries  have  decreed  to  be  in  very 
truth  a  Psalm  of  Life. 

I  felt  great  responsibility  in  keeping  with  me  my 
sons,  now  ten  and  twelve  years  old.  At  a  farmhouse 


324         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

about  fifteen  miles  in  the  country  a  member  of  the 
family  was  living,  and  availing  myself  of  a  passing 
wagon,  I  sent  the  boys  to  share  his  plenty  and  com- 
fort. A  few  days  afterwards  they  returned  —  a 
dusty,  footsore  pair  of  urchins.  They  had  run 
away  and  come  home  !  Moreover,  they  had  found 
an  old  horse  left  on  the  roadside  to  die, — which 
Roger  refused  to  leave,  —  had  shared  their  luncheon 
with  him,  given  him  water,  assisted  him  to  his  feet, 
and  by  slow  stages  led  him  home ! 

"  Oh  !  how  shall  we  feed  him  ?  "  I  exclaimed,  in 
despair. 

"  I'll  help,"  said  Captain  Lindsay ;  "  he  shall  be 
immediately  introduced  to  my  mare,  and  she  shall 
share  her  oats  with  him  ; "  and  a  very  sober-minded, 
steady  horse  he  proved  to  be,  quite  good  enough 
to  be  stolen,  as  he  finally  was,  by  the  enemy. 

My  friend,  General  Wilcox,  put  my  own  friendship 
to  a  severe  test  one  morning.  Standing  by  the 
mantel  in  his  accustomed  attitude,  he  informed  me 
that  he  had  received  many  kind  attentions  from  the 
ladies  of  Petersburg  (I  was  aware  of  an  affair  of  the 
heart  in  which  a  pretty  widow  was  concerned),  and 
he  proposed  to  give  a  dejeuner  a  la  fourchette,  and 
invite  them  out  to  his  tent.  Would  I  chaperon 
the  occasion,  and  might  my  parlor  be  used  as  a 
reception  room  ? 

"  Of  course,  General !  "  I  replied.  "  They  will 
be  welcome  to  me,  and  to  the  parlor.  The  'four- 
chette '  will  be  forthcoming  without  fail,  but  where, 
oh,  where  can  we  find  the  '  dejeuner '  ?  " 

"  I  have  thought  of  all  that,"  said  the  General. 


Dejeuner  a  la  Fourchette  325 

"  I  will  send  half  a  dozen  fellows  out  with  guns 
to  bring  in  birds.  I'll  get  John  to  make  some  cakes 
and  biscuits,  we'll  brew  a  bowl  of  punch.  Voila  ! 
What  more  do  you  want  ? " 

"  That  will  be  fine,"  I  assured  him,  and  accord- 
ingly his  invitations  were  sent,  handsomely  written, 
to  about  thirty  people.  A  load  of  evergreens  was 
delivered  at  the  tent,  and  all  hands  set  to  work  to 
weave  garlands.  Every  candle  in  camp  was 
"  pressed."  John  made  a  fine  success  of  his  sponge 
cakes,  and  also  fruit  and  nut  cake  —  the  fruit,  dis- 
guised dried  apples,  the  nuts,  walnuts. 

The  day  before  the  event  the  General  leaned,  a 
dejected  figure,  against  the  mantel. 

"  Those — blamed — soldiers  have  returned.  They 
didn't  bag  a  bird." 

"  I  feared  that !  Virginia  partridges  are  hunted 
with  dogs.  Besides,  where  can  you  find  game  within 
twenty  miles  of  an  army  ?  " 

"  Well,  it  will  take  six  months'  pay,  but  we  must 
buy  oysters.  I  don't  know  what  else  we  can  do." 

"  General,"  I  said,  "  suppose  you  have  a  break- 
fast like  one  Mrs. ,  from  North  Carolina,  gave 

here  when  she  stayed  with  me  last  month.  She  had 
little  m'enus  neatly  written,  including  various  dishes. 
The  dishes,  however,  were  imaginary.  They  did 
not  appear !  The  guests  left  with  the  impression 
that  these  things  had  been  provided,  but  that  acci- 
dents which  were  to  be  counted  on  in  time  of  war 
had  spoiled  them.  Now,  John  could  easily  an- 
nounce a  fall  of  soot  from  the  chimney,  —  like 
Caleb  Balderstone !  Aunt  Jinny  would  make  an 


326          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

admirable  c  Mysie.'  Have  you  never  heard  her 
f  skirl '  ?  We  might  imagine  partridges,  turkey,  and 
ham,  and  then  imagine  the  accidents.  What  could 
be  simpler  ? " 

The  General's  breakfast  was  a  great  success.  The 
weather  was  fine.  One  of  his  staff,  who  was  not 
invited,  confided  to  me  his  fear  that  there  would  be 
nothing  left !  And,  indeed,  the  guests  brought  noble 
appetites.  The  General  took  in  the  pretty  widow. 
General  A.  P.  Hill  honored  me.  A  gay  procession 
of  open  wagons  filled  with  merry  guests  left  the  door 
at  sunset,  and  sang  "  The  Bonnie  Blue  Flag  "  as  they 
wended  their  way  home.  General  Lee  from  his  head- 
quarters could  hear  the  song,  and  doubtless  it  cheered 
his  sympathetic  heart,  albeit  he  knew  a  battle  was  near 
at  hand.  He  could  not  know  that  in  that  battle 
General  Hill  and  Colonel  Pegram  would  fall  with 
all  their  wounds  in  front,  among  the  first  of  those 
martyrs  whose  lives  were  sacrificed  after  the  leaders 
knew  there  was  no  more  life  in  the  cause  for  which 
they  died. 

Our  friends  in  town  sent  many  invitations  to  us 
dwellers  in  tents.  Of  course,  I  accepted  none  of 
them.  I  had  no  heart  for  gayety,  and  not  one 
moment's  time  to  spare  from  my  sewing.  It  is 
passing  strange  —  this  disposition  to  revel  in  times 
of  danger  and  suffering.  Florence  was  never  so  gay 
as  during  the  Plague  !  The  men  of  our  armv  who 
had  been  absent  three  years  were  now  near  their 
homes,  and  they  abandoned  themselves  to  the  op- 
portunities of  the  hour.  Some  of  them  were  en- 
gaged to  the  beautiful  young  women  of  Petersburg. 


Starvation  Parties  —  Forced  Cheerfulness    327 

"  This  is  no  time  for  marriage,"  said  General  Lee, 
"  no  time  while  the  country  is  in  such  peril ;  "  and 
yet  he  granted  a  furlough  now  and  then  to  some 
soldier  who  was  unwilling  to  wait. 

There  were  parties,  "  starvation  parties,"  as  they 
were  called  on  account  of  the  absence  of  refreshments 
impossible  to  be  obtained.  Not  even  the  lump  of 
sugar  allowed  by  Lady  Morgan  at  her  conversaziones 
was  possible  here;  but  notwithstanding  this  serious 
disadvantage,  ball  followed  ball  in  quick  succession. 
"  The  soldier  danced  with  the  lady  of  his  love  at 
night,  and  on  the  morrow  danced  the  dance  of  death 
in  the  deadly  trench  on  the  line."  There  the  ranks 
closed  up ;  and  in  the  ball  room  they  closed  up 
also.  There  was  always  a  comrade  left  for  the  part- 
ner of  the  belle ;  and  not  one  whit  less  valiant  was 
the  soldier  for  his  brief  respite.  He  could  go  from 
the  dance  to  his  place  in  the  trenches  with  a  light 
jest,  however  heavy  his  heart  might  be.  And  when 
the  beloved  commander  ordered  him  forth,  he  could 
step  out  with  martial  tread  and  cheer  and  song  —  to 
the  march  or  into  battle.  I  think  all  who  remember 
the  dark  days  of  the  winter  of  1864-1865  will  bear 
witness  to  the  unwritten  law  enforcing  cheerfulness. 
It  was  tacitly  understood  that  we  must  make  no 
moan,  yield  to  no  outward  expression  of  despon- 
dency or  despair. 

On  January  30  General  Wilcox  came  in,  bringing 
great  news.  Three  commissioners  authorized  to 
meet  representatives  of  the  Federal  government 
had  arrived  in  Petersburg  en  route  for  Fortress 
Monroe.  They  were  Vice-President  Stephens, 


3 28          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

Senator  R.  M.  T.  Hunter,  and  James  A.  Campbell, 
former  Assistant  Justice  of  the  Supreme  Court  of 
the  United  States,  and  now  Assistant  Secretary  of 
War  of  the  Confederate  States. 

"  I  thought,"  said  the  General,  "  you  might 
come  out  and  listen  to  the  cheering.  It  is  echoed 
by  the  enemy.  There  seems  to  be  no  doubt  of  the 
feeling  on  both  sides." 

I  begged  the  General  to  lend  me  an  ambulance, 
and  drove  out  to  the  front.  The  troops  of  Fort 
Gregg  and  Battery  45 — just  in  the  rear  of  my  gar- 
den —  had  come  out  and  were  cheering  vociferously. 
There  seemed  to  be  a  truce  for  the  moment.  We 
could  distinctly  hear  the  answering  cheers  from  the 
opposing  fortifications. 

My  ambulance  drew  up  to  the  side  of  the  road, 
and  presently  an  open  carriage  appeared,  with  the 
mayor  and  the  three  commissioners.  They  paused 
for  a  few  minutes  before  crossing  the  line.  With 
my  heart  beating  painfully,  I  left  my  ambulance  and 
walked  to  the  carriage.  There  Mr.  Hunter  greeted 
me  kindly  and  introduced  me  to  his  companions. 
Trembling  with  emotion,  I  said  :  — 

"  My  errand  is  to  you,  dear  Mr.  Hunter.  You 
are  going  to  see  President  Lincoln  or  his  represen- 
tative. I  entreat  you,  I  implore  you,  to  remember 
your  friend  General  Pryor.  He  is  breaking  his 
heart  in  prison.  Beg  his  release  from  Mr. 
Lincoln." 

"  I  will  —  we  will,"  they  promised.  The  carriage 
proceeded,  and  as  it  crossed  the  line  a  mighty  cheer 
went  up  from  the  hundreds  of  soldiers,  Confederate 


The  Results  of  a    Depreciated  Currency   329 

and  Union,  who  were  standing  on  duty  and  looking 
on. 

In  an  instant  we  were  enemies  again,  and  I  was 
hastening  out  of  the  range  of  shot  and  shell. 

On  February  5  the  commissioners  returned  from 
their  bootless  errand.  Mr.  Hunter  wrote  me  that 
they  had  "  remembered  Pryor  as  was  promised,  but 
his  release  would  not  be  considered/' 

An  extract  from  Order  No.  2,  February  n,  1865, 
from  General  Lee,  explains  the  manner  in  which  our 
proposals  had  been  received  :  — 

"  The  choice  between  war  and  abject  submission 
is  before  us. 

"  To  such  a  proposal,  brave  men,  with  arms  in 
their  hands,  can  have  but  one  answer. 

"  They  cannot  barter  manhood  for  peace,  nor  the 
right  of  self-government  for  life  or  property. 

"  Taking  new  resolution  from  the  fate  which  our 
enemies  intend  for  us,  let  every  man  devote  all  his 
energies  to  the  common  defence." 

I  am  afraid  we  were  too  faint  from  want  of  food 
to  be  as  courageous  as  our  noble  commander 
expected.  Flour  was  now  selling  for  $1500  a  bar- 
rel;  bacon,  $20  a  pound;  beef,  $15  ditto:  butter 
could  be  had  at  $20  a  pound.  One  chicken  could 
be  bought  for  $50.  Shad  sold  for  $50  a  pair 
(before  the  war  the  price  was  not  more  than  ten  or 
fifteen  cents).  One  hundred  dollars  was  asked  for 
one  dollar  in  gold,  making  the  price  I  had  given 
to  save  John  from  a  negro  trader  $10,600  !  —  news 
which  he  heard  with  such  concern  that  I  hastened 
to  tell  him  I  had  never  regretted  it. 


jjo         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

John  bethought  himself  of  the  fishes  in  the  pond 
and  streams,  but  not  a  fish-hook  was  for  sale  in 
Richmond  or  Petersburg.  He  contrived,  out  of  a 
cunning  arrangement  of  pins,  to  make  hooks,  and 
sallied  forth  with  my  boys.  But  the  water  was  too 
cold,  or  the  fish  had  been  driven  down-stream  by 
the  firing.  The  usual  resource  of  the  sportsman 
with  an  empty  creel  —  a  visit  to  the  fishmonger  — 
was  quite  out  of  the  question.  There  was  no  fish- 
monger any  more. 

Under  these  circumstances  you  may  imagine  my 
sensations  at  receiving  the  following  note :  — 

"  MY  DEAR  MRS.  PRYOR  :  General  Lee  has  been  hon- 
ored by  a  visit  from  the  Hon.  Thomas  Connolly,  Irish 
M.P.  from  Donegal. 

"  He  ventures  to  request  you  will  have  the  kindness  to 
give  Mr.  Connolly  a  room  in  your  cottage,  if  this  can  be 
done  without  inconvenience  to  yourself." 

Certainly  I  could  give  Mr.  Connolly  a  room  ; 
but  just  as  certainly  I  could  not  feed  him  !  The 
messenger  who  brought  the  note  hastily  reassured 
me.  He  had  been  instructed  to  say  that  Mr.  Con- 
nolly would  mess  with  General  Lee.  I  turned  Mr. 
Connolly's  room  over  to  John,  who  soon  became 
devoted  to  his  service.  The  M.P.  proved  a  most 
agreeable  guest,  a  fine-looking  Irish  gentleman  with 
an  irresistibly  humorous,  cheery  fund  of  talk.  He 
often  dropped  in  at  our  biscuit  toasting,  and  as- 
sured us  that  we  were  better  provided  than  the 
commander-in-chief. 


The  Wolf  crosses  the  Confederate  Threshold    33 1 

"  You  should  have  seen  c  Uncle  Robert's '  dinner 
to-day,  Madam  !  He  had  two  biscuits,  and  he 
gave  me  one." 

Another  time  Mr.  Connolly  was  in  high  feather. 

"  We  had  a  glorious  dinner  to-day  !  Somebody 
sent  c  Uncle  Robert '  a  box  of  sardines." 

General  Lee,  however,  was  not  forgotten.  On 
fine  mornings  quite  a  procession  of  little  negroes,  in 
every  phase  of  raggedness,  used  to  pass  my  door, 
each  one  bearing  a  present  from  the  farmers'  wives 
of  buttermilk  in  a  tin  pail,  for  General  Lee.  The 
army  was  threatened  with  scurvy,  and  buttermilk, 
hominy,  and  every  vegetable  that  could  be  obtained 
was  sent  to  the  hospital. 

Mr.  Connolly  interested  himself  in  my  boys' 
Latin  studies. 

"  I  am  going  home,"  he  said,  "  and  tell  the  Eng- 
glish  women  what  I  have  seen  here :  two  boys  read- 
ing Caesar  while  the  shells  are  thundering,  and  their 
mother  looking  on  without  fear." 

"  I  am  too  busy  keeping  the  wolf  frdrn  my  door," 
I  told  him,  "  to  concern  myself  with  the  thunder- 
bolts." 

The  wolf  was  no  longer  at  the  door !  He  had 
entered  and  had  taken  up  his  abode  at  the  fireside. 
Besides  what  I  could  earn  with  my  needle,  I  had 
only  my  father's  army  ration  to  rely  upon.  My 
faithful  John  foraged  right  and  left,  and  I  had 
reason  to  doubt  the  wisdom  of  inquiring  too  closely 
as  to  the  source  of  an  occasional  half-dozen  eggs  or 
small  bag  of  corn.  This  last  he  would  pound  on  a 
wooden  block  for  hominy.  Meal  was  no  longer 


332          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

procurable.  As  I  have  said,  we  might  occasionally 
purchase  for  five  dollars  the  head  of  a  bullock  from 
the  commissary,  every  other  part  of  the  animal 
being  available  for  army  rations.  By  self-denial  on 
our  own  part,  we  fondly  hoped  we  could  support 
our  army  and  at  last  win  our  cause.  We  were  not, 
at  the  time,  fully  aware  of  the  true  state  of  things. 
Our  men  were  so  depleted  from  starvation  that  the 
most  trifling  wound  would  end  fatally.  Gangrene 
would  supervene,  and  then  nothing  could  be  done  to 
prevent  death.  Long  before  this  time,  at  Vicksburg, 
Admiral  Porter  found  that  many  a  dead  soldier's 
haversack  yielded  nothing  but  a  handful  of  parched 
corn.  We  were  now  enduring  a  sterner  siege. 

Before  daylight,  on  the  2d  of  March,  General  Lee 
sent  for  General  Gordon,  who  was  with  his  command 
at  a  distant  part  of  the  line.1  Upon  arriving,  General 
Gordon  was  much  affected  by  seeing  General  Lee 
standing  at  the  mantel  in  his  room,  his  head  bowed 
on  his  folded  arms.  The  room  was  dimly  lighted 
by  a  single  lamp,  and  a  smouldering  fire  was  dying 
on  the  hearth.  The  night  was  cold  and  General 
Lee's  room  chill  and  cheerless. 

"  I  have  sent  for  you,  General  Gordon,"  said 
General  Lee,  with  a  dejected  voice  and  manner,  "  to 
make  known  to  you  the  condition  of  our  affairs  and 
consult  with  you  as  to  what  we  had  best  do.  I  have 
here  reports  sent  in  from  my  officers  to-night.  I 
find  I  have  under  my  command,  of  all  arms,  hardly 
forty-five  thousand  men.  These  men  are  starving. 
They  are  already  so  weakened  as  to  be  hardly  effi- 

1  "  Camp-fire  and  Battle-field,"  p.  185. 


General  Lee  argues  for  Peace  333 

cient.  Many  of  them  have  become  desperate,  reck- 
less, and  disorderly  as  they  have  never  been  before. 
It  is  difficult  to  control  men  who  are  suffering  for 
food.  They  are  breaking  open  mills,  barns,  and 
stores  in  search  of  it.  Almost  crazed  from  hunger, 
they  are  deserting  in  large  numbers  and  going  home. 
My  horses  are  in  equally  bad  condition.  The  supply 
of  horses  in  the  country  is  exhausted.  It  has  come 
to  be  just  as  bad  for  me  to  have  a  horse  killed  as  a 
man.  I  cannot  remount  a  cavalryman  whose  horse 
dies.  General  Grant  can  mount  ten  thousand  men 
in  ten  days  and  move  around  your  flank.  If  he 
were  to  send  me  word  to-morrow  that  I  might  move 
out  unmolested,  I  have  not  enough  horses  to  move 
my  artillery.  He  is  not  likely  to  send  me  any  such 
message,  although  he  sent  me  word  yesterday  that 
he  knew  what  I  had  for  breakfast  every  morning. 
I  sent  him  word  I  did  not  think  that  this  could  be 
so,  for  if  he  did  he  would  surely  send  me  some- 
thing better. 

"  But  now  let  us  look  at  the  figures.  As  I  said, 
I  have  forty-five  thousand  starving  men.  Hancock 
has  eighteen  thousand  at  Winchester.  To  oppose 
him  I  have  not  a  single  vidette.  Sheridan,  with  his 
terrible  cavalry,  has  marched  unmolested  and  unop- 
posed along  the  James,  cutting  the  railroads  and  the 
canal.  Thomas  is  coming  from  Knoxville  with  thirty 
thousand  well-equipped  troops,  and  I  have,  to  oppose 
him,  not  more  than  three  thousand  in  all.  Sherman 
is  in  North  Carolina  with  sixty-five  thousand  men. 
...  So  I  have  forty-five  thousand  poor  fellows  in 
bad  condition  opposed  to  one  hundred  and  sixty 


334         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

thousand  strong  and  confident  men.  These  forces, 
added  to  General  Grant's,  make  over  a  quarter  of  a 
million.  To  prevent  them  all  from  uniting  to  my 
destruction,  and  adding  Johnston's  and  Beauregard's 
men,  I  can  oppose  only  sixty  thousand  men.  They 
are  growing  weaker  every  day.  Their  sufferings  are 
terrible  and  exhausting.  My  horses  are  broken 
down  and  impotent.  General  Grant  may  press  around 
our  flank  any  day  and  cut  off  our  supplies." 

As  a  result  of  this  conference  General  Lee  went 
to  Richmond  to  make  one  more  effort  to  induce  our 
government  to  treat  for  peace.  It  was  on  his  re- 
turn from  an  utterly  fruitless  errand  that  he  said :  — 

"  I  am  a  soldier  !  It  is  my  duty  to  obey  orders  ;  " 
and  the  final  disastrous  battles  were  fought. 

It  touches  me  to  know  now  that  it  was  after  this 
that  my  beloved  commander  found  heart  to  turn 
aside  and  bring  me  comfort.  No  one  knew  better 
than  he  all  I  had  endeavored  and  endured,  and 
my  heart  blesses  his  memory  for  its  own  sake.  At 
this  tremendous  moment,  when  he  had  returned 
from  his  fruitless  mission  to  Richmond,  when  the 
attack  on  Fort  Steadman  was  impending,  when  his 
slender  line  was  confronted  by  Grant's  ever  in- 
creasing host,  stretching  twenty  miles,  when  the  men 
were  so  starved,  so  emaciated, that  the  smallest  wound 
meant  death,  when  his  own  personal  privations  were 
beyond  imagination,  General  Lee  could  spend  half 
an  hour  for  my  consolation  and  encouragement. 

Cottage  Farm  being  on  the  road  between  head- 
quarters and  Fort  Gregg  —  the  fortification  which 
held  General  Grant  in  check  at  that  point  —  I  saw 


A  Visit  from  General  Lee  335 

General  Lee  almost  daily  going  to  this  work,  or  to 
"  Battery  45."  On  Sundays  he  regularly  passed 
on  his  famous  horse,  Traveller,  on  his  way  to  a 
little  wooden  chapel,  going  often  through  sleet  and 
rain,  bending  his  head  to  shield  his  face  from  the 
storm. 

I  was,  as  was  my  custom,  sewing  in  my  little 
parlor  one  morning,  about  the  middle  of  March, 
when  an  orderly  entered,  saying  :  — 

"  General  Lee  wishes  to  make  his  respects  to 
Mrs.  Pryor."  The  General  was  immediately 
behind  him.  His  face  was  lighted  with  the  antici- 
pation of  telling  me  his  good  news.  With  the 
high-bred  courtesy  and  kindness  which  always  dis- 
tinguished his  manner,  he  asked  kindly  after  my 
welfare,  and,  taking  my  little  girl  in  his  arms,  began 
gently  to  break  his  news  to  me :  — 

"  How  long,  Madam,  was  General  Pryor  with  me 
before  he  had  a  furlough  ?  " 

"  He  never  had  one,  I  think,"  I  answered. 

"  Well,  did  I  not  take  good  care  of  him  until  we 
camped  here  so  close  to  you  ? " 

"  Certainly,"  I  said,  puzzled  to  know  the  drift  of 
these  preliminaries. 

"  I  sent  him  home  to  you,  I  remember,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  for  a  day  or  two,  and  you  let  the  Yankees 
catch  him.  Now  he  is  coming  back  to  be  with  you 
again  on  parole  until  he  is  exchanged.  You  must 
take  better  care  of  him  in  future." 

I  was  too  much  overcome  to  do  more  than  stam- 
mer a  few  words  of  thanks. 

Presently  he    added,  "  What    are    you  going   to 


336         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

say  when  I  tell  the  General  that  in  all  this  winter 
you  have  never  once  been  to  see  me  ? " 

"  Oh,  General  Lee,"  I  answered,  "  I  had  too  much 
mercy  to  join  in  your  buttermilk  persecution  !  " 

"  Persecution  !  "  he  said  ;  "  such  things  keep  us 
alive !  Last  night,  when  I  reached  my  headquar- 
ters, I  found  a  card  on  my  table  with  a  hyacinth 
pinned  to  it,  and  these  words :  c  for  General  Lee, 
with  a  kiss  ! '  Now,"  he  added,  tapping  his  breast, 
"  I  have  here  my  hyacinth  and  my  card  —  and  1 
mean  to  find  my  kiss  I  " 

He  was  amused  by  the  earnest  eyes  of  my  little 
girl,  as  she  gazed  into  his  face. 

"  They  have  a  wonderful  liking  for  soldiers,"  he 
said.  "  I  knew  one  little  girl  to  give  up  all  her 
pretty  curls  willingly,  that  she  might  look  like  Cus- 
tis  !  c  They  might  cut  my  hair  like  Custis's,'  she  said. 
Custis  !  whose  shaven  head  does  not  improve  him 
in  any  eyes  but  hers." 

His  manner  was  the  perfection  of  repose  and  sim- 
plicity. As  he  talked  with  me  I  remembered  that 
I  had  heard  of  this  singular  calmness.  Even  at 
Gettysburg,  and  at  the  explosion  of  the  crater,  he 
had  evinced  no  agitation  or  dismay.  I  did  not 
know  then,  as  I  do  now,  that  nothing  had  ever 
approached  the  anguish  of  this  moment,  when  he 
had  come  to  say  an  encouraging  and  cheering  word 
to  me,  after  abandoning  all  hope  of  the  success  of 
the  cause. 

After  talking  awhile  and  sending  a  kind  message 
to  my  husband,  to  greet  him  on  his  return,  he  rose, 
walked  to  the  window,  and  looked  over  the  fields  — 


No  Hope  expressed  for  the  South        337 

the  fields  through  which,  not  many  days  afterward,  he 
dug  his  last  trenches! 

I  was  moved  to  say,  "  You  only,  General,  can  tell 
me  if  it  is  worth  my  while  to  put  the  ploughshare 
into  those  fields." 

"  Plant  your  seeds,  Madam,"  he  replied ;  sadly 
adding,  after  a  moment,  "  the  doing  it  will  be  some 
reward." 

I  was  answered.  I  thought  then  he  had  little 
hope.  I  now  know  he  had  none. 

He  had  already,  as  we  have  seen,  remonstrated 
against  further  resistance  —  against  the  useless  shed- 
ding of  blood.  His  protest  had  been  unheeded. 
It  remained  for  him  now  to  gather  his  forces  for 
endurance  to  the  end. 

Twenty  days  afterward  his  headquarters  were  in 
ashes;  he  had  led  his  famished  army  across  the 
Appomattox ;  and,  telling  them  they  had  done  their 
duty,  and  had  nothing  to  regret,  he  had  bidden 
them  farewell  forever. 


CHAPTER   XXII 

THE  EVACUATION  OF  PETERSBURG 

THE  happy  day  was  not  distant  when  the  hus- 
band and  father  of  our  little  family  was  to  be 
restored  to  his  own  home  and  his  own  people. 

I  never  inquired  the  source  from  which  John 
drew  his  materials  for  a  festival ;  but,  a  day  or  two 
before  my  husband  was  to  arrive,  he  appeared  with 
a  small  duck  !  This  he  roasted  to  perfection,  to  be 
served  cold,  as  the  hour  for  the  dinner  could  not  be 
determined  in  advance. 

We  were  all  expectation  and  excitement  when  a 
lady  drove  up  rapidly  and  asked  for  shelter,  as  she 
had  been  "  driven  in  from  the  lines/'  Shelter  I 
could  give  by  spreading  quilts  on  the  parlor  floor  — 
but,  alas,  my  duck  !  Must  my  precious  duck  be 
sacrificed  upon  the  altar  of  hospitality  ?  I  unlocked 
the  little  tin  safe  to  assure  myself  that  I  could  man- 
age to  keep  it  hidden,  and  behold,  it  was  gone ! 
Not  until  next  day,  when  it  was  placed  before  my 
husband  with  a  triumphant  flourish  (our  unwelcome 
guest  had  departed),  did  I  discover  that  John  had 
stolen  it !  "  Why,  there's  the  duck  !  "  I  exclaimed. 

"  Course  here's  the  duck,"  said  John,  respectfully. 
cc  Ducks  got  plenty  of  sense.  They  knows  as  well 
as  folks  when  to  hide." 

338 


The  Story  of  General  Pryor's  Captivity    339 

We  found  our  released  prisoner  pale  and  thin, 
but  devoutly  thankful  to  be  at  home.  Mr.  Con- 
nolly and  the  officers  around  us  called  in  the  even- 
ing, keenly  anxious  to  hear  his  story,  and  heartily 
expressing  their  joy  at  his  release.  My  friends  in 
Washington  had  wished  to  send  me  some  presents, 
but  my  husband  declined  them,  accepting  only  two 
cans  of  pineapple.  Mr.  Connolly  sent  out  for  the 
"  boys  in  the  yard  "  and  assisted  me  in  dividing  the 
fruit  into  portions,  so  each  one  should  have  a  bit.  It 
was  served  on  all  the  saucers  and  butter-plates  we 
could  find,  and  Mr.  Connolly  himself  handed  the  tray 
around,  exclaiming,  "  Oh,  lads  !  It  is  just  the  best 
thing  you  ever  tasted  !  "  Then  each  soldier  brought 
forth  his  brier-root  and  gathered  around  the  traveller 
for  his  story.  His  story  was  a  thrilling  one  —  of  his 
capture,  his  incarceration,  his  comrades;  finally,  of  the 
unexpected  result  of  the  efforts  of  his  ante-bellum 
friends,  Washington  McLean  and  John  W.  Forney, 
for  his  release.  It  was  ascertained  by  these  friends  in 
Washington  that  he  was  detained  as  hostage  for  the 
safety  of  some  Union  officer  whom  the  Confederate 
government  had  threatened  to  put  to  death. 

Mr.  McLean  and  Colonel  Forney  first  ap- 
proached General  Grant.  The  General  positively 
refused  to  grant  their  request.  Then  Mr.  McLean 
visited  Mr.  Stanton.  He  found  Mr.  Stanton  in 
the  library  of  his  own  home,  with  his  daughter  in 
his  arms,  and  the  following  conversation  ensued  :  — 

"  This  is  a  charming  fireside  picture,  Mr.  Secre- 
tary !  I  warrant  that  little  lady  cares  nothing  for 
war  or  the  Secretary  of  War !  She  has  her  father, 
and  that  fills  all  her  ambition." 


340         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

"  You  never  said  a  truer  word,  did  he,  pet  ?  " 
pressing  the  curly  head  close  to  his  bosom. 

"  Well,  then,  Stanton,  you  will  understand  my 
errand.  There  are  curly  heads  down  there  in  old 
Virginia,  weeping  out  their  bright  eyes  for  a  father 
loved  just  as  this  pretty  baby  loves  you." 

"  Yes,  yes  !     Probably  so,"  said  Stanton. 

"  Now  —  there's  Pryor  —  " 

But  before  another  word  could  be  said  the  Secre- 
tary of  War  pushed  the  child  from  his  knee  and 
thundered:  — 

"  He  shall  be  hanged  !     Damn  him  !  " 

But  he  had  reckoned  without  his  host  when  he 
supposed  that  Washington  McLean  would  not 
appeal  from  that  verdict.  Armed  with  a  letter  of 
introduction  from  Horace  Greeley,  Mr.  McLean 
visited  Mr.  Lincoln.  The  President  remembered 
General  Pryor's  uniformly  generous  treatment  of 
prisoners  who  had,  at  various  times,  fallen  into  his 
custody,  especially  his  capture  at  Manassas  of 
the  whole  camp  of  Federal  wounded,  surgeons 
and  ambulance  corps,  and  his  prompt  parole  of  the 
same.  Mr.  Lincoln  listened  attentively,  and,  after 
ascertaining  all  the  facts,  issued  an  order  directing 
Colonel  Burke,  the  commander  at  Fort  Lafayette, 
to  "  deliver  Roger  A.  Pryor  into  the  custody  of 
Washington  McLean." 

Armed  with  this  order,  Mr.  McLean  visited  Fort 
Lafayette,  where  he  found  his  friend  in  close  con- 
finement in  the  casemate  with  other  prisoners. 

At  that  time  John  Y.  Beall,  a  Confederate  officer, 
was  confined  with  General  Pryor,  under  sentence  of 


Lincoln's  Views  on  Continuing  the  War     341 

death  as  a  spy.  Mr.  McLean  became  interested  in 
his  fate,  and  suggested  that  if  General  Pryor  would 
make  a  personal  appeal  in  his  behalf  to  President 
Lincoln,  his  execution  might  probably  be  prevented. 
To  that  end,  Mr.  McLean  telegraphed  a  request  to 
Mr.  Lincoln,  that  he  accord  General  Pryor  an  inter- 
view, to  which  a  favorable  response  was  promptly 
returned.  The  next  evening,  General  Pryor,  with 
Mr.  McLean  and  Mr.  Forney,  called  at  the  White 
House,  and  was  graciously  received  by  the  President. 
General  Pryor  at  once  opened  his  intercession  in  be- 
half of  Captain  Beall ;  but,  although  Mr.  Lincoln 
evinced  the  sincerest  compassion  for  the  young  man, 
and  an  extreme  aversion  to  his  death,  he  felt 
constrained  to  yield  to  the  assurance  of  General  Dix, 
in  a  telegram  just  received,  that  the  execution  was 
indispensable  to  the  security  of  the  Northern  cities 
—  it  being  believed,  though  erroneously,  that  Cap- 
tain Beall  was  implicated  in  the  burning  of  the  New 
York  hotels.  Mr.  Lincoln  then  turned  the  conver- 
sation to  the  recent  conference  at  Hampton  Roads, 
the  miscarriage  of  which  he  deplored  with  the  pro- 
foundest  sorrow.  He  said  that  had  the  Confederate 
government  agreed  to  the  reestablishment  of  the 
Union  and  the  abolition  of  slavery,  the  people  of 
the  South  might  have  been  compensated  for  the  loss 
of  their  negroes  and  would  have  been  protected  by  a 
universal  amnesty,  but  that  Mr.  Jefferson  Davis 
made  the  recognition  of  the  Confederacy  a  condition 
sine  qua  non  of  any  negotiations.  Thus,  he  declared, 
would  Mr.  Davis  be  responsible  for  every  drop  of 
blood  that  should  be  shed  in  the  further  prosecution 


Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

of  the  war,  a  futile  and  wicked  effusion  of  blood, 
since  it  was  then  obvious  to  every  sane  man  that  the 
Southern  armies  must  be  speedily  crushed.  On 
this  topic  he  dwelt  so  warmly  and  at  such  length 
that  General  Pryor  inferred  that  he  still  hoped  the 
people  of  the  South  would  reverse  Mr.  Davis's 
action,  and  would  renew  the  negotiations  for  peace. 
Indeed,  he  declared  in  terms  that  he  could  not  be- 
lieve the  senseless  obstinacy  of  Mr.  Davis  represented 
the  sentiment  of  the  South.  It  was  apparent 
to  General  Pryor  that  Mr.  Lincoln  desired  him  to 
sound  leading  men  of  the  South  on  the  subject. 
Accordingly,  on  the  General's  return  to  Richmond, 
he  did  consult  with  Senator  Hunter  and  other 
prominent  men  in  the  Confederacy,  but  with  one 
voice  they  assured  him  that  nothing  could  be  done 
with  Mr.  Davis,  and  that  the  South  had  only  to  wait 
the  imminent  and  inevitable  catastrophe. 

The  inevitable  catastrophe  marched  on  apace. 

Agnes  wrote  from  Richmond,  March  28  —  the 
last  letter  I  received  from  the  Confederate  capital :  — 

u  I  do  hate  to  write  you  bad  news  just  now  when  you 
should  be  so  happy  with  our  dear  General,  but,  really  and 
truly,  I  don't  at  all  like  the  looks  of  things  here.  Sheridan 
is  at  Ashland.  And  General  Sherman  has  finished  up 
North  Carolina,  and  is  in  Virginia  ! 

u  I  made  an  excursion  through  some  of  the  Main  Street 
stores  last  week  —  and  recognized  some  of  Mrs.  Davis's 
things.  I  learned  that  she  had  placed  a  great  many 
articles  at  the  dry-goods  stores  for  sale  and  had  sold  her 
horses.  And  now  comes  the  surprising  news,  that  she  has 
left  the  city  with  her  family.  What  does  all  this  mean  ? 


Events  after  the  General's  Return         343 

Some  of  the  girls  here  have  taken  their  jewellery  to  the 
Treasury  Department,  giving  it  to  help  redeem  the  currency. 
I  am  sure  they  are  welcome  to  all  mine  !  " 

On  the  morning  of  April  2  we  were  all  up 
early  that  we  might  prepare  and  send  to  Dr.  Clai- 
borne's  Hospital  certain  things  we  had  suddenly 
acquired.  An  old  farmer  friend  of  my  husband  had 
loaded  a  wagon  with  peas,  potatoes,  dried  fruit, 
hominy,  and  a  little  bacon,  and  had  sent  it  as  a  wel- 
coming present.  We  had  been  told  of  the  preva- 
lence of  scurvy  in  the  hospitals,  and  had  boiled  a 
quantity  of  hominy,  and  also  of  dried  fruit,  to  be 
sent  with  the  potatoes  for  the  relief  of  the  sick. 

My  husband  said  to  me  at  our  early  breakfast :  — 

"  How  soundly  you  can  sleep  !  The  cannonading 
was  awful  last  night.  It  shook  the  house." 

"  Oh,  that  is  only  Fort  Gregg,"  I  answered. 
"  Those  guns  fire  incessantly.  I  don't  consider 
them.  You've  been  shut  up  in  a  casemate  so 
long  you've  forgotten  the  smell  of  powder." 

Our  father,  who  happened  to  be  with  us  that 
morning,  said :  — 

"  By  the  bye,  Roger,  I  went  to  see  General  Lee, 
and  told  him  you  seemed  to  be  under  the  impression 
that  if  your  division  moves,  you  should  go  along 
with  it.  The  General  said  emphatically :  c  That 
would  be  violation  of  his  parole,  Doctor.  Your  son 
surely  knows  he  cannot  march  with  the  army  until 
he  is  exchanged.' ' 

This  was  a  great  relief  to  me,  for  I  had  been 
afraid  of  a  different  construction. 


344         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

After  breakfast  I  repaired  to  the  kitchen  to  see 
the  pails  filled  for  the  hospital,  and  to  send  Alick  and 
John  on  their  errand. 

Presently  a  message  was  brought  me  that  I  must 
join  my  husband,  who  had  walked  out  to  the  forti- 
fication behind  the  garden.  I  found  a  low  earth- 
work had  been  thrown  up  during  the  night  still 
nearer  our  house,  and  on  it  he  was  standing. 

I  have  had,  very  lately,  access  to  a  Federal  map 
of  the  intrenched  lines  in  the  immediate  front  of 
Petersburg,  drawn  by  a  major  of  engineers  of  the 
United  States  Army.  There  I  find  a  double  line 
of  breastworks,  protected  by  thirty-four  forts  sweep- 
ing around  the  city  and  embracing  some  six  or  eight 
miles  of  country  beyond,  on  either  side.  Within  the 
Federal  line  is  a  little  thread  of  a  line  protected  by 
lunettes  and  only  two  forts  (for  this  map  has  quite  a 
Chinese  feeling),  and  these  two  are  named  by  the 
enemy,  Fort  Gregg  and  Fort  Baldwin  —  the  latter 
our  Battery  45.  To  my  surprise  I  find  the  engineer 
had  his  eye  on  me  all  winter.  Near  together  are 
certain  dots  —  two  for  "  Turnbull  "  (General  Lee's 
headquarters),  two  for  "  Green,"  two  for  "  Laighton," 
and  four  for  "  Pryor,"  representing  the  dwelling, 
office,  kitchen,  and  servants'  quarter  at  Cottage  Farm  ! 
I  perceive  from  the  map  that  the  engineer  knew  all 
about  us  all  the  time. 

To  return  to  the  morning  of  April  2  —  my 
husband  held  out  his  hand  and  drew  me  up  on  the 
breastwork  beside  him.  Negroes  were  passing, 
wheeling  their  barrows,  containing  the  spades  they 
had  just  used.  Below  was  a  plain,  and  ambulances 


Flight  from  Cottage  Farm,  April  2d      345 

were  collecting  and  stopping  at  intervals.  Then  a 
slender  gray  line  stretched  across  under  cover  of  the 
first  earthwork  and  the  forts.  Fort  Gregg  and 
Battery  45  were  belching  away  with  all  their 
might,  answered  by  guns  all  along  the  line.  While 
we  gazed  on  all  this  the  wood  opposite  seemed  alive, 
and  out  stepped  a  division  of  bluecoats  —  muskets 
shining  and  banners  flying  in  the  morning  sun.  My 
husband  exclaimed :  "  My  God !  What  a  line ! 
They  are  going  to  fight  here  right  away.  Run 
home  and  get  the  children  in  the  cellar." 

When  I  reached  the  little  encampment  behind  the 
house,  I  found  the  greatest  confusion.  Tents  were 
struck  and  a  wagon  was  loading  with  them.  Cap- 
tain Glover  rode  up  to  me  and  conjured  me  to  leave 
immediately.  I  reminded  him  of  his  promise  not 
to  allow  me  to  be  surprised. 

"  We  are  ourselves  surprised,"  he  said  ;  "  believe 
me,  your  life  is  not  safe  here  a  moment."  Tapping 
his  breast,  he  continued,  "  I  bear  despatches  proving 
what  I  say." 

I  ran  into  the  house  and  gathered  my  little  chil- 
dren. I  bade  the  servants  remain.  If  things  grew 
warm,  they  had  the  cellar,  and  perhaps  their  presence 
would  save  their  own  goods  and  mine,  should  the 
day  go  against  us.  Uncle  Frank  immediately 
repaired  to  the  cellar.  "  I  have  only  one  order,"  I 
told  the  rest,  "  hide  the  General's  flag."  As  I  left 
(bareheaded,  I  could  not  find  my  hat),  I  heard 
Uncle  Frank  call  from  the  little  portholes  of  his 
retreat  to  his  wife,  "  For  Gawd's  sake,  Jinny,  bring 
me  a  gode  of  water." 


346         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

The  morning  was  close  and  warm,  and  as  we 
toiled  up  the  dusty  road  I  regretted  the  loss  of  my 
hat.  Presently  I  met  a  gentleman  driving  rapidly 
from  town.  It  was  my  neighbor,  Mr.  Laighton. 
He  had  removed  his  wife  and  little  girls  to  a  place 
of  safety  and  was  returning  for  me.  He  proposed, 
as  we  were  now  out  of  musket  range,  that  I  should 
rest  with  the  children  under  the  shade  of  a  tree,  and 
he  would  return  to  the  farm  to  see  if  he  could  save 
something  —  what  did  I  suggest?  I  asked  that  he 
would  bring  a  change  of  clothing  for  the  children  and 
my  medicine  chest. 

As  we  waited  for  his  return  some  terrified  horses 
dashed  up  the  road,  one  with  blood  flowing  from 
his  nostrils.  When  Mr.  Laighton  finally  returned, 
he  brought  news  that  he  had  seen  my  husband,  that 
all  the  cooked  provisions  were  spread  out  for  the 
passing  soldiers,  and  that  more  were  in  preparation  ; 
also  that  he  had  promised  to  take  care  of  me,  and 
to  leave  the  General  free  to  dispense  these  things 
judiciously.  John  had  put  the  service  of  silver 
into  the  buggy,  and  Eliza  had  packed  a  trunk, 
for  which  he  was  to  return.  This  proved  to  be 
the  French  trunk  in  which  Eliza  sent  a  change  of 
clothing. 

We  were  all  soon  in  the  buggy  and  on  our  way 
to  town. 

"  Where  shall  I  take  you  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Laighton. 
I  had  no  answer  ready.  I  thought  I  would  trust 
to  chance  for  an  invitation.  But  we  found  the 
streets  full  of  refugees  like  ourselves,  and  like  our- 
selves, uncertain  of  shelter.  Very  few  of  our  friends 


A  House  secured  in  Petersburg          347 

had  remained  in  the  city  after  the  siege  had  proven 
to  be  a  permanent  one. 

After  a  while,  as  we  drove  slowly  through  the 
crowded  streets,  we  met  Mr.  Stuart,  my  husband's 
tailor.  He  said  a  good  house  had  been  left  vacant 
by  one  of  his  customers,  who  had  authorized  him  to 
rent  it. 

"  I  now  rent  it  to  General  Pryor,"  said  Mr.  Stuart, 
and  he  conducted  us  to  the  door  of  a  residence  near 
my  old  home  on  Washington  Street.  When  the 
door-bell  was  answered  he  informed  a  man  whom 
he  addressed  as  Robert,  that  we  had  become  his 
master's  tenants,  and  said  that  Robert  and  his 
mother,  now  in  the  house,  would  not  be  required 
to  leave,  adding  :  — 

"  Take  good  care  of  this  lady.  I  will  see  that 
your  wages  are  paid  and  that  you  are  suitably 
rewarded." 

The  silver  service  was  dumped  down  in  the  front 
porch,  and  there  we  awaited  events.  About  noon 
John  appeared.  He  had  saved  something  !  —  my 
champagne  glasses  !  He  had  also  brought  a  basket 
of  biscuits.  I  sent  him  back  to  the  farm,  strictly 
ordering  that  the  flag  should  be  cared  for.  John 
told  me  it  was  safe.  He  had  hidden  it  under  some 
fence  rails  in  the  cellar.  As  to  the  battle,  he  had  no 
news,  except  that  "  Marse  Roger  is  giving  away 
everything  on  the  earth.  All  the  presents  from  the 
farmer  will  go  in  a  little  while." 

My  next  envoy  from  the  seat  of  war  was  Alick, 
who  walked  into  the  yard,  leading  Rose  by  a  rope, 
and  at  once  proceeded  to  stable  her.  Go  back  ? 


348         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

No,  marmy  not  if  he  knew  his  name  was  Alick. 
His  mammy  had  never  horned  him  to  be  in  no  battle  I 
And  walking  off  to  give  Rose  a  pail  of  water,  he 
informed  her  that  "  You'n  me,  Rose,  is  the  only 
folks  I  see  anywhar  'bout  here  with  any  sense." 

Neighbors  soon  discovered  us ;  and  to  my  joy 
I  found  that  Mrs.  Gibson,  Mrs.  Meade,  and  Mr. 
Bishop  —  one  of  my  father's  elders — were  in  their 
own  houses,  very  near  my  temporary  shelter. 

Our  father,  I  learned  afterwards,  was  with  the 
hospital  service  of  his  corps,  and  had  been  sent  to 
the  rear. 

The  hospitals  under  Dr.  Claiborne  were  ordered 
off  early  in  the  day,  a  significant  indication  of 
General  Lee's  accurate  estimate  of  the  probabilities 
of  the  hour.  Dr.  Claiborne  had  three  thousand 
sick  and  wounded  men  to  move.  Among  them 
was  Colonel  Riddick,  from  Smithfield,  the  brother 
of  the  spirited  girl  I  had  known  there.  She  had 
come  to  Petersburg  to  nurse  her  wounded  brother, 
and  had  left,  in  a  wagon,  with  the  hospital  train. 
Part  of  this  train  was  captured,  and  the  wagons  were 
ordered  to  be  burned ;  but  Miss  Riddick  posi- 
tively refused  to  leave  her  seat,  and  as  they  could 
not  burn  the  wagon  with  her  in  it,  she  was  suffered 
to  proceed  with  her  brother  in  her  own  equipage. 
Miss  Riddick  was  not  a  young  lady  who  need  fear. 
*c There's  a  divinity  doth  hedge"  some  women. 
She  was  courteously  treated  and  passed  through 
the  lines  to  her  friends. 

In  the  evening  the  little  boys  came  in  with  con- 
fidential news.  The  day  had  gone  against  us ; 


Bketoh  of  the 
ENTRENCHED  LINES 

•    in  the  Immediate  front  of 

PETERSBURG 

Surveyed  under  the  direction  of 

N.  HICHLER, 
\Majorof.Engrs.,  Bvt.Col.-US.  A. 

SCALE      ^^^^^ 

0       K       H       «       imlle 


.Enemy's  Lines 


Preparing  for  the  Federals  349 

the  city  was  to  be  surrendered  after  the  retreat  of 
the  army  at  midnight.  Their  father  would  come 
in  with  the  last. 

I  remembered  with  anguish  that  I  had  lost  my 
chance  to  save  the  important  papers  of  the  family. 
In  a  trunk  in  my  room  I  had  locked  all  my  one 
lover's  beautiful  letters,  all  the  correspondence  — 
so  rich  I  had  meant  to  print  it  —  of  his  residence 
in  Greece,  of  his  travels  in  the  East  and  in  Egypt ; 
all  the  letters  from  statesmen  and  authors  of  the 
years  preceding  the  struggle.  There  they  were. 
They  would  be  sport  for  the  enemy  in  a  few  hours. 
My  eldest  son,  Theodorick,  and  Campbell  Pryor, 
my  husband's  twelve-year-old  brother,  agreed  to 
return  to  the  farm,  draw  the  trunk  out  to  the  rear 
of  the  kitchen,  break  it  open,  set  fire  to  the  contents, 
and  not  leave  until  they  were  consumed. 

In  due  time  the  boys  returned,  having  accomplished 
the  burning  of  the  letters,  but  bearing  between  them 
a  huge  bundle  —  a  sheet  full  of  papers.  cc  Father's 
sermons,"  explained  Campbell. 

When  the  time  came  for  my  tired  little  brood  to 
go  to  bed,  I  found  three  upper  rooms  prepared  for 
us.  In  one  of  these  I  put  the  boys,  first  placing  the 
large  silver  tray  between  two  mattresses.  A  hamper 
filled  with  soiled  towels  and  pinafores  stood  in  a 
corner.  Therein  I  bestowed  the  six  pieces  of  the 
service,  covering  the  whole  with  the  soiled  linen. 
A  smaller  room  I  reserved  for  my  husband,  into 
which  I  locked  him,  putting  the  key  in  my  pocket 
—  for  he  had  returned  in  such  an  excited  frame  of 
mind,  and  in  such  physical  exhaustion,  that  I  was 


350         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

uneasy  about  him,  lest  he  might,  when  the  army 
passed,  yield  to  his  feelings  and  go  along  with  it. 

Then  I  took  my  seat  at  the  window  and  listened. 
The  firing  had  all  ceased. 

A  ring  at  the  door-bell  startled  me.  There  stood 
Mayor  Townes,  come  to  ask  if  General  Pryor  would 
go  out  with  the  flag  of  truce  and  surrender  the  city. 

"  Oh,  he  cannot  —  he  cannot,"  I  declared.  "  How 
can  you  ask  him  to  surrender  his  old  home  ?  Be- 
sides, he  is  worn  out,  and  is  now  sleeping  heavily." 

About  two  o'clock,  General  Lee  passed  the  house 
with  his  staff.  It  is  said  he  looked  back  and  said  to 
his  aide :  "  This  is  just  what  I  told  them  at  Rich- 
mond. The  line  has  been  stretched  until  it  snapped." 
Presently  there  was  a  loud  explosion  —  another  — 
another.  The  bridges  were  being  blown  up.  Then 
fires  announced  the  burning  of  warehouses  of  tobacco. 

And  then !  As  the  dawn  broke,  I  saw  the  Fed- 
eral pickets  entering  silently,  watchfully.  Finding 
no  resistance,  they  threw  their  muskets  over  into 
the  yard  and  hurried  down  town  to  plunder ! 

I  awoke  my  boys.  "  Get  up,  boys !  Dress 
quickly.  Now  remember,  you  must  be  very  self- 
controlled  and  quiet,  and  no  harm  will  come  to  you." 

Immediately  the  door  of  my  room  was  thrown 
wide  open,  and  Robert  ushered  in  three  armed, 
German-looking  soldiers. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  To  search  the  house,"  they  answered. 

"  You  will  find  nothing  worth  your  while.  There 
is  my  shawl !  I  have  just  run  in  from  the  lines. 
Here  are  my  children." 


Entrance  of  Northern  Soldiers  351 

"We  don't  want  your  clothes,"  said  one;  "we 
want  your  prisoner." 

My  husband  had  heard  and  knocked  at  his  door. 
He  had  not  undressed. 

"  Here  I  am,"  he  said,  coming  out  and  fastening 
his  collar;  and,  before  I  could  think,  they  had 
marched  him  off. 

I  was  left  alone  with  the  boy  Robert,  who  had  be- 
trayed him.  He  stood  trembling,  not  with  fear  — 
with  excitement. 

"  Leave  this  house  !  "  I  ordered  him. 

"  What  for  ?  "  he  asked  sullenly. 

"  Because  you  are  no  friend  of  mine.  This  is  now 
my  house.  You  are  not  to  set  foot  in  it  again/' 

Strange  to  say,  he  left. 

He  had  admitted  into  the  house  more  soldiers 
than  these  three.  I  had  brought  with  me  from  the 
farm  a  little  negress,  Lizzie,  who  had  been  hired  by 
Eliza  "  to  amuse  the  baby."  Lizzie  had  obeyed 
the  instinct  which  always  leads  a  child's  Southern 
nurse  to  the  kitchen,  and  had  gone  below  with  my 
baby.  I  heard  the  most  tremendous  stamping  and 
singing  in  the  basement  kitchen,  and  from  the  top 
of  the  staircase  I  called  to  Lizzie,  who  ran  up, 
frightened,  with  the  child  in  her  arms.  A  soldier 
looked  up  from  the  bottom. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Getting  breakfast,"  he  replied. 

"  You'll  get  none  here,"  I  told  him. 

He  set  his  bayonet  forward  and  started  up  the 
steps.  I  slipped  back  and  luckily  found  a  bolt  on 
the  door.  Quick  as  thought  I  bolted  him  out. 


352          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

But  I  was  burningly  indignant.  I  saw  the  street 
full  of  troops  standing,  and  a  young  officer  on 
horseback.  I  ran  out  and  said  to  him :  — 

"  Is  it  your  pleasure  we  should  be  murdered  in 
our  houses  ?  My  kitchen  is  full  of  soldiers." 

"  Where,  where  ?  "    exclaimed  the  young  fellow, 

...  ...  .  /  O 

dismounting  and  running  in. 

I  conducted  him  to  the  bolted  door,  unfastened 
it,  and  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  him  lay  about 
with  the  flat  of  his  sword  to  good  purpose.  He 
placed  a  guard  around  the  house.  Moreover,  his 
action  sustained  me  in  my  position,  and  the  old 
woman  in  the  kitchen  greeted  me  respectfully, 
apologized  for  her  son,  and  promised  faithful  service 
in  the  future. 

But  another  and  most  bitter  trial  was  in  store  for 
me.  An  approaching  army  corps  was  hailed  with 
shouts  and  cheers  as  it  passed  down  the  street.  At 
its  head  was  borne  the  trophy  that  had  aroused  this 
enthusiasm :  our  own  sacred  banner,  given  by 
the  women  of  Petersburg  to  the  young  colonel  at 
Smithfield,  and  inscribed  with  the  names  of  the 
battles  into  which  he  had  proudly  borne  it.  It  was 
coming  back  —  a  captive!  How  grateful  I  felt  that 
my  husband  had  not  seen  it !  "  Ole  Uncle  Frank's 
at  the  bottom  of  that  business,"  said  Alick,  —  and 
alas  !  we  had  reason  to  suppose  the  polite  old  colored 
gentleman  had  purchased  favor  by  revealing  the 
hiding-place  of  our  banner.  My  husband  soon 
returned.  He  had  presented  Mr.  Lincoln's  card, 
on  which  the  President  had  written  his  "  parole  until 
exchanged."  Thereafter  he  was  arrested  and  re- 


Watching  the  Hostile  Host  353 

leased  every  time  the  occupying  troops  moved  and 
were  replaced  by  new  brigades  and  divisions. 

We  sat  all  day  in  the  front  room,  watching  the 
splendidly  equipped  host  as  it  marched  by  on  its 
way  to  capture  Lee.  It  soon  became  known  that 
we  were  there.  Within  the  next  few  days  we  had 
calls  from  old  Washington  friends.  Among  others 
my  husband  was  visited  by  Elihu  B.  Washburne, 
and  Senator  Henry  Wilson,  afterward  Vice-President 
of  the  United  States  with  General  Grant.  These 
paid  long  visits  and  talked  kindly  and  earnestly  of 
the  South. 

Major-General  Warren  had  been  relieved  of  his 
command  and  superseded  by  Sheridan.  His  old 
friend,  Randolph  Harrison,  lay  ill  and  wounded  near 
us,  and  General  Warren  introduced  himself  to 
General  Pryor  and  asked  to  be  conducted  to  his 
friend's  bedside.  From  that  time  he  was  with  us 
every  day,  and,  indorsed  warmly  by  "  Ranny,"  our 
old  friend,  he  too  was  admitted  into  our  friendship. 

Mr.  Lincoln  soon  arrived  and  sent  for  my  hus- 
band. But  General  Pryor  excused  himself,  say- 
ing that  he  was  a  paroled  prisoner,  that  General 
Lee  was  still  in  the  field,  and  that  he  could  hold  no 
conference  with  the  head  of  the  opposing  army. 

The  splendid  troops  passed  continually.  Our 
hearts  sank  within  us.  We  had  but  one  hope  — 
that  General  Lee  would  join  Joseph  E.  Johnston 
and  find  his  way  to  the  mountains  of  Virginia^  those 
ramparts  of  nature  which  might  afford  protection 
until  we  could  rest  and  recruit. 


2A 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

RICHMOND     SURRENDERS 

"RICHMOND,  April  5,  1865. 

u  "T^    ^T^  dear:  —  I  am  not  at  all  sure  you  will  ever 

\/|     receive  this  letter,  but  I  shall  risk  it.      First,  I 

JL^  JL    join  you  in  humble  thanks  to  God  for  the  great 

mercy  accorded   both   of  us.     Your   General   lives.     My 

Colonel   lives.     What  words   can   express  our   gratitude  ? 

What  is  the  loss  of  home  and  goods  compared  with  the  loss 

of  our  own  flesh  and  blood  ?     Alas  !  Alas  !  for  those  who 

have  lost  all  ! 

"  I  am  sure  you  will  have  heard  the  grewsome  story  of 
Richmond's  evacuation.  I  was  at  St.  Paul's  Sunday, 
April  i,  when  a  note  was  handed  to  President  Davis. 
He  rose  instantly,  and  walked  down  the  aisle  —  his  face 
set,  so  we  could  read  nothing.  Dr.  Minnegerode  gave 
notice  that  General  Ewell  desired  the  forces  to  assemble 
at  3  P.M.,  and  also  that  there  would  be  no  further  service 
that  day.  I  had  seen  no  one  speak  to  the  doctor,  and  I 
wonder  at  the  acuteness  of  his  perception  of  the  state  of 
affairs.  As  soon  as  I  reached  the  hotel  I  wrote  a  note  to 
the  proprietor,  asking  for  news.  He  answered  that  grave 
tidings  had  come  from  Petersburg,  and  for  himself  he  was  by 
no  means  sure  we  could  hold  Richmond.  He  requested 
me  to  keep  quiet  and  not  encourage  a  tendency  to  excite- 
ment or  panic.  At  first  I  thought  I  would  read  my  ser- 
vices in  the  quiet  of  my  little  sky  parlor  at  the  Spotswood, 
but  I  was  literally  in  a  fever  of  anxiety.  I  descended  to 

354 


The  Capital  before  Evacuation  355 

the  parlor.  Nobody  was  there  except  two  or  three  chil- 
dren with  their  nurses.  Later  in  the  afternoon  I  walked 
out  and  met  Mr.  James  Lyons.  He  said  there  was  no 
use  in  further  evading  the  truth.  The  lines  were  broken 
at  Petersburg  and  that  town  and  Richmond  would  be 
surrendered  late  at  night  —  he  was  going  out  himself  with 
the  mayor  and  Judge  Meredith  with  a  flag  of  truce  and 
surrender  the  city.  Trains  were  already  fired  to  carry 
the  archives  and  bank  officials.  The  President  and  his 
Cabinet  would  probably  leave  at  the  same  time. 

u  '  And  you,  Judge  ? ' 

" '  I  shall  stand  my  ground.  I  have  a  sick  family,  and 
we  must  take  our  chances  together.' 

u  '  Then  seriously  —  really  and  truly  —  Richmond  is 
to  be  given  up,  after  all,  to  the  enemy.' 

u  c  Nothing  less  !  And  we  are  going  to  have  a  rough 
time,  I  imagine.' 

"  I  could  not  be  satisfied  until  I  had  seen  Judge  Camp- 
bell, upon  whom  we  so  much  relied  for  good,  calm  sense. 
I  found  him  with  his  hands  full  of  papers,  which  he  waved 
deprecatingly  as  I  entered. 

u  '  Just  a  minute,  Judge  !  I  am  alone  at  the  Spotwood 
and—' 

u '  Stay  there,  my  dear  lady  !  You  will  be  perfectly 
safe.  I  advise  all  families  to  remain  in  their  own  houses. 
Keep  quiet.  I  am  glad  to  know  the  Colonel  is  safe.  He 
may  be  with  you  soon  now.' 

"With  this  advice  I  returned  and  mightily  reassured 
and  comforted  the  proprietor  of  the  Spotswood.  He 
immediately  caused  notice  to  be  issued  to  his  guests.  I 
resolved  to  convey  my  news  to  the  families  I  knew  best. 
The  Pegrams  were  in  such  deep  affliction  there  was  no 
room  there  for  anxious  fears  about  such  small  matters  as 
the  evacuation  of  cities,  but  I  could  see  my  dear  Mrs. 
Paul,  and  Mrs.  Maben,  and  say  a  comforting  word  at  the 


356         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

Allan  home  —  closed  to  all  the  world  since  poor  John  fell 
at  Gettysburg.  Mrs.  Davis  was  gone  and  out  of  harm's 
way.  The  Lees  were  sacred  from  intrusion.  Four 
members  of  that  household  —  the  General,  '  Rooney,' 
Custis,  and  Robert — were  all  at  the  post  of  danger. 
Late  in  the  afternoon  three  hundred  or  more  prisoners 
were  marched  down  the  street  ;  the  negroes  began 
to  stand  about,  quietly  observant  but  courteous-,  making  no 
demonstration  whatever.  The  day,  you  remember,  was 
one  of  those  glorious  days  we  have  in  April,  and  millions 
on  millions  of  stars  watched  at  night,  looking  down  on 
the  watchers  below.  I  expected  to  sit  by  my  window  all 
night  as  you  always  do  in  a  troubled  time,  but  sleep  over- 
took me.  I  had  slept,  but  not  undressed,  when  a  loud 
explosion  shook  the  house  —  then  another.  There  were 
crashing  sounds  of  falling  glass  from  the  concussion.  I 
found  the  sun  had  risen.  All  was  commotion  in  the 
streets,  and  agitation  in  the  hotel.  The  city  govern- 
ment had  dragged  hogsheads  of  liquor  from  the  shops, 
knocked  in  the  heads,  and  poured  the  spirits  into  the  gut- 
ters. They  ran  with  brandy,  whiskey,  and  rum,  and 
men,  women,  and  boys  rushed  out  with  buckets,  pails, 
pitchers,  and  in  the  lower  streets,  hats  and  boots,  to  be 
filled.  Before  eight  o'clock  many  public  buildings  were 
in  flames,  and  a  great  conflagration  was  evidently  immi- 
nent. The  flames  swept  up  Main  Street,  where  the 
stores  were  quickly  burned,  and  then  roared  down  the 
side  streets  almost  to  Franklin. 

"  The  doors  of  all  the  government  bakeries  were  thrown 
open  and  food  was  given  to  all  who  asked  it.  Women 
and  children  walked  in  and  helped  themselves.  At  ten 
o'clock  the  enemy  arrived,  —  ten  thousand  negro  troops, 
going  on  and  on,  cheered  by  the  negroes  on  the  streets. 

"So  the  morning  passed  —  a  morning  of  horror,  of 
terror!  Drunken  men  shouted  and  reeled  through  the 


Mr.  Lincoln  enters  Richmond  357 

streets,  a  black  cloud  from  the  burning  city  hung  like  a 
pall  over  us,  a  black  sea  of  faces  filled  the  street  below, 
shells  burst  continuously  in  the  ashes  of  the  burning 
armory.  About  four  in  the  afternoon  a  salute  of  thirty- 
four  guns  was  fired.  A  company  of  mounted  dragoons 
advanced  up  the  street,  escorting  an  open  carriage  drawn 
by  four  horses  in  which  sat  Mr.  Lincoln  and  a  naval 
officer,  followed  by  an  escort  of  cavalry.  They  drove 
straight  to  Mr.  Davis's  house,  cheered  all  the  way  by 
negroes,  and  returned  the  way  they  came.  I  had  a  good 
look  at  Mr.  Lincoln.  He  seemed  tired  and  old — and 
I  must  say,  with  due  respect  to  the  President  of  the  United 
States,  I  thought  him  the  ugliest  man  I  had  ever  seen. 
He  was  fairly  elected  the  first  time,  I  acknowledge,  —  but 
was  he  the  last  ?  A  good  many  of  the  *  free  and  equal ' 
were  not  allowed  a  vote  then. 

"  The  next  day  I  persuaded  one  of  the  lads  in  the  hotel 
to  take  a  walk  with  me  early  in  the  morning,  and  I 
passed  General  Lee's  house.  A  Yankee  guard  was  pacing 
to  and  fro  before  it  —  at  which  I  felt  an  impulse  of  indig- 
nation,—  but  presently  the  door  opened,  the  guard  took 
his  seat  on  the  steps  and  proceeded  to  investigate  the 
contents  of  a  very  neatly  furnished  tray,  which  Mrs.  Lee 
in  the  kindness  of  her  heart  had  sent  out  to  him. 

u  I  am  obliged  to  acknowledge  that  there  is  really  no  hope 
now  of  our  ultimate  success.  Everybody  says  so.  My  heart 
is  too  full  for  words.  General  Johnson  says  we  may  comfort 
ourselves  by  the  fact  that  war  may  decide  a  policy,  but  never 
a  principle.  I  imagine  our  principle  is  all  that  remains  to  us 
of  hope  or  comfort. 

u  Devotedly, 

"  AGNES." 

From  my  friend  Admiral  Porter  I  learned  that  he 
landed  with  President  Lincoln,  and  that  through 


358          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

some  contretemps  no  equipage  was  in  waiting  to 
conduct  them  through  the  streets  of  Richmond. 
They  set  out  to  walk,  escorted  by  twelve  of  the 
boat's  crew  with  bayonets  fixed  on  their  rifles.  The 
day  was  warm,  and  the  streets  dusty,  "  owing  to 
the  immense  gathering  of  the  crowd,  kicking  up  the 
dirt."  Mr.  Lincoln  took  off  his  hat  and  fanned  his 
face,  from  which  the  perspiration  was  pouring,  and 
looked  as  if  he  would  give  his  presidency  for  a  glass 
of  water. 

The  admiral,  par  parenthese,  told  many  negro 
anecdotes  in  negro  dialect,  but,  like  all  Northern 
imitators  of  that  inimitable  lingo,  he  "  slipped  up  " 
on  many  words.  The  negro  does  not  say  "  Massa  " 
—  his  word  is  "  Marster  "  ;  he  does  not  say  "  Bress 
de  Lawd,"  —  "Thank  Gawd  A'mighty"  being  his 
pious  preference. 

The  triumphing  party  was  overtaken  by  an  equi- 
page and  a  military  escort,  and  proceeded,  according 
to  the  admiral,  "  to  the  mansion  of  Mr.  Davis.1  It 
was  quite  a  small  affair  compared  with  the  White 
House,  and  modest  in  all  its  appointments,  showing 
that  while  President  Davis  was  engaged  heart  and 
soul  in  endeavoring  to  effect  the  division  of  the 
states,  he  was  not,  at  least,  surrounding  himself  with 
regal  style,  but  was  living  in  a  modest,  comfortable 
way,  like  any  other  citizen.  Amid  all  his  surround- 
ings the  refined  taste  of  his  wife  was  apparent,  and 
marked  everything  about  the  apartments."  Admiral 
Porter  thought  that  the  Confederate  government 

1  "  Incidents  and  Anecdotes  of  the  Civil  War,"  Porter,  p.  302. 


Opinions  on  a  Continuance  of  War       359 

had  departed  in  an  ignoble  manner,  "  that  it  should 
have  remained  at  the  capital  and  surrendered  in  a 
dignified  way,  making  terms  for  the  citizens  of  the 
place,  guarding  their  rights,  and  acknowledging 
they  had  lost  the  game.  There  was  nothing  to 
be  ashamed  of  in  such  a  surrender  to  a  vastly 
superior  force ;  their  armies  had  fought  as  people 
never  fought  before.  They  had  c  robbed  the  cradle 
and  the  grave'  to  sustain  themselves,  and  all  that 
was  wanted  to  make  them  glorious  was  the  sub- 
mission of  their  leaders  and  troops  in  a  dignified 
way,"  etc. 

This  was  also  the  feeling  of  many  of  our  own 
best  men  —  of  General  Lee  and  scores  of  his 
officers,  of  Judge  Campbell,  of  the  private  citi- 
zens of  Richmond.  Mr.  Davis  differed  from 
these  men.  General  Lee's  opinion  was  known 
to  his  officers.  General  Gordon  once  said  to 
him  :  — 

"  Have  you  expressed  an  opinion,  as  to  the  pro- 
priety of  making  terms,  to  the  President  or  to 
Congress  ?  "  1 

His  reply  was  :  "  General  Gordon,  I  am  a  soldier. 
It  is  my  duty  to  obey  orders.  ...  It  is  enough  to 
turn  a  man's  hair  gray  to  spend  one  day  in  that 
Congress.  The  members  are  patriotic  and  earnest, 
but  they  will  neither  take  the  responsibility  of  acting 
nor  will  they  clothe  me  with  authority  to  act.  As 
for  Mr.  Davis,  he  is  unwilling  to  do  anything  short 
of  independence,  and  feels  that  it  is  useless  to  try  to 
treat  on  that  basis."  This  conversation  immediately 

1  "  Camp-fire  and  Battle-field,"  pp.  486,  487. 


360         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

preceded  the  terrible  battle  at  Petersburg,  and  the 
consequent  loss  of  that  city  and  Richmond.  Much 
could  have  been  saved  in  blood  and  in  treasure  had 
the  final  battles  never  taken  place.  "  Whom  the 
gods  destroy  they  first  infatuate/* 

Intelligence  of  the  death  of  President  Lincoln 
reached  Petersburg  on  the  ijth  of  April.  As  he 
had  been  with  us  but  a  few  days  before,  manifestly 
in  perfect  health  and  in  all  the  glow  and  gladness  of 
the  triumph  of  the  Federal  arms,  the  community 
was  unspeakably  shocked  by  the  catastrophe.  That 
he  fell  by  the  hand  of  an  assassin,  and  that  the  deed 
was  done  by  a  Confederate  and  avowedly  in  the 
interest  of  the  Confederate  cause,  were  circumstances 
which  distressed  us  with  an  apprehension  that  the 
entire  South  would  be  held  responsible  for  the  atro- 
cious occurrence.  The  day  after  the  tragic  news 
reached  us  the  people  of  Petersburg  in  public  meet- 
ing adopted  resolutions  deploring  the  President's 
death  and  denouncing  his  assassination, — resolutions 
which  gave  expression  to  the  earnest  and  universal 
sentiment  of  Virginia.  I  question  if,  in  any  quarter 
of  the  country,  the  virtues  of  Abraham  Lincoln  — 
as  exhibited  in  his  spirit  of  forgiveness  and  for- 
bearance —  are  more  revered  than  in  the  very  section 
which  was  the  battle-ground  of  the  fight  for  inde- 
pendence of  his  rule.  It  is  certainly  our  conviction 
that  had  he  lived  the  South  would  never  have  suf- 
fered the  shame  and  sorrow  of  the  carpet-bag  regime. 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

SHERIDAN'S  OCCUPATION  OF  PETERSBURG 

SUCH    alarming   rumors    reached  us  from  the 
neighboring    counties,    of    marauding    parties 
plundering    private    houses    and    frightening 
defenceless   women,  that  my  husband  obtained  an 
extension  of  his  parole,  and  permission  to  visit  his 
sisters   in   Nottoway   County.     He  had   not  heard 
from   his   father  since   the  fight  at   Cottage   Farm. 
Leaving  me  in  the  care  of  my  neighbor,  good  Mr. 
Bishop,  he  set  forth. 

The  first  stirring  event  of  our  new  position  was 
the  arrival  of  prisoners,  marched  through  the  streets 
under  a  strong  guard.  They  were  a  forlorn  body 
of  ragged,  hatless,  barefoot  men.  They  had  found 
poles  or  sticks  somewhere,  and  upon  them  they 
waved  their  hats  and  handkerchiefs — the  poor,  brave 
fellows  !  We  women  stood  at  the  doors  of  our 
houses  with  smiles  and  encouraging  words.  One 
of  the  soldiers  darted  from  the  ranks,  rushed  to  me, 
embraced  me  as  if  I  were  a  sister,  and  slipped  his 
watch  into  my  hands  !  It  was  a  novel  experience ; 
but  I  think  if  he  had  appeared  as  a  prisoner  in  the 
garb  of  Beelzebub,  horns,  hoofs,  and  all,  I  should 
not  have  flinched.  Within  the  watch  I  found  his 

361 


362          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

name  —  a  connection  of  our  family  and  a  valued 
friend.  He  had  recognized  me,  but  I  could  not 
recognize  the  elegant  young  colonel  in  his  imperso- 
nation of  a  ragged  barefoot  boy. 

My  little  sons  soon  found  the  destination  of  the 
captives,  also  that  citizens  were  getting  permits  from 
headquarters  to  take  them  home. 

"  Then  you  must  go  and  ask  General  Hartsuff 
for  a  permit/'  I  said.  Upon  inquiry  it  appeared 
that  this  could  not  be  done  by  proxy.  Some  adult 
member  of  the  family  must  apply  in  person. 

So  I  took  my  young  escorts  with  me,  and  we 
went  to  "Centre  Hill/'  the  fine  Boiling  House, 
where  the  General  had  made  his  headquarters.  I 
presented  my  plea.  How  many  did  I  want  ?  I 
thought  I  could  take  care  of  eight.  Their  names  ? 
I  could  give  only  one,  the  owner  of  the  watch.  The 
General  kindly  conceded  that  I  might  select  my  men, 
adding,  "  Would  to  God  I  could  release  them  all !  " 

The  first  impression  I  had  of  the  temporary 
prison  was  of  stifling  heat  in  which  no  one  could 
live.  The  place  smelt  violently !  My  friend 
helped  me  choose  my  men,  and  I  was  required  to 
present  myself  with  them,  armed  with  my  order, 
to  have  my  name  and  theirs  entered  in  an  army 
register,  with  an  order  that  they  report  every  day 
until  the  command  moved  on.  As  I  was  leaving 
the  warehouse  a  fair-haired  boy  said  to  me,  "  Oh, 
take  me  along  too  !  " 

"  Take  my  arm/'  I  said ;  and  not  until  I 
reached  the  street  did  I  realize  the  enormity  of 
my  mistake.  I  had  stolen  a  prisoner ! 


Temporary   Homes  for  Prisoners          363 

I  knew  well  I  could  be  severely  punished.  My 
boy  soon  told  me  his  name.  He  was  Frank 
Brooke,  nephew  of  our  dear  Judge  Randolph 
Tucker. 

But  here  was  a  dilemma.  All  night  I  revolved 
it  in  my  mind.  I  had  nine  men  —  eight  were  to 
report  next  morning.  Very  early  Alick  knocked 
at  my  door. 

"  What  is  it  now,  Alick  ?  " 

"  One  of  dem  prisoners  run  away  las'  night !  I 
hear  de  do*  open  and  jump  up  to  see  what's  de 
matter.  He  say,  '  Keep  still,  boy !  Hit's  all 
right !  '  " 

"  So  it  is,  Alick,"  I  said,  "  it's  perfectly  delight- 
ful." 

I  took  a  piece  of  my  husband's  silver  service 
down  to  the  Northern  sutler,  and  pawned  it  for 
two  hundred  dollars.  With  this  money  I  pur- 
chased shoes,  handkerchiefs,  and  hats  for  my  men, 
and  kept  them  in  comfort  for  a  week  or  more. 
They  were  then  "  moved  on  "  to  other  and  distant 
quarters,  —  and  all  very  soon  liberated. 

One  morning  early  I  was  summoned  from  my 
room  by  Alick,  who  informed  me  that  four  gentle- 
men had  called.  Descending  to  the  parlor,  I  found 
four  officers  in  Federal  uniform.  As  soon  as  I 
entered,  one  of  them  asked  brusquely  :  — 

"  How  many  rooms  are  in  this  house  ? " 

"  I  think  there  are  eight  or  ten." 

"  General  Sheridan  wants  the  house  for  his 
adjutant's  office." 

I  was  aware  that  General  Sheridan  had  arrived 


364         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

the  day  before,  and  had  taken  possession  of  Mr. 
Hamilton's  elegant  mansion  on  the  next  street,  in 
the  rear  of  my  little  dwelling. 

I  at  once  perceived  that  the  General,  although 
in  a  house  of  twenty  or  more  rooms,  had  not  de- 
sired the  noise  and  inconvenience  of  an  adjutant's 
office  under  his  own  roof.  I  answered  coldly :  — 

"  I  cannot  oblige  General  Sheridan.  My  house 
is  small.  I  need  it  for  my  own  family." 

One  of  the  officers  rose,  crossed  the  room,  and, 
standing  before  me,  said  sternly  :  — 

"  Madam,  you  seem  to  be  unaware  that  when 
General  Sheridan  sees  a  house  that  suits  him,  he 
knows  how  to  make  the  terms  for  it." 

"  Ah,  well,"  I  replied,  "  I  had  forgotten  that  fact 
for  the  moment.  Do  I  understand  my  family 
must  go  in  the  street?  How  much  time  can  you 
give  me  to  remove  them  ? " 

The  officers  withdrew  into  the  hall  and  con- 
ferred together.  Presently  one  of  them  returned, 
and  informed  me  courteously  that  they  had  con- 
cluded not  to  annoy  me.  He  was  aware  he  was 
addressing  Mrs.  General  Pryor.  His  own  name 
was  Captain  Lee,  and  he  had  been  happy  to  spare 
me  inconvenience. 

The  next  morning  I  was  awakened  soon  after 
dawn  by  a  tremendous  hubbub  below  me,  and 
sending  my  little  maid,  Lizzie,  to  ascertain  the 
cause,  she  beckoned  to  me  to  come  to  the  head  of 
the  stairs.  I  threw  on  my  gown,  thrust  my  feet 
into  my  carpet  slippers,  and  peeped  over  the  ban- 
ister. Captain  Lee  was  standing  at  the  foot  of 


Accommodating  an  Adjutant's  Office      365 

the  stair,  writing  a  note  on  the  top  of  the  newel 
post.  Looking  up,  he  saw  me,  and  said  :  "  I  was 
writing  to  you,  Madam.  General  Sheridan  has 
ordered  us  to  take  your  house.  It  is  a  military 
necessity.  I  pray  you  will  try  to  be  patient,  and 
I  will  do  all  I  can  to  save  you  annoyance." 

"  How  soon  must  I  leave  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all !  We  can  allow  you  two  rooms  — 
the  one  you  already  occupy  and  the  one  below  it." 

I  appreciated  the  concession  of  the  latter  room, 
and  busied  myself  to  make  of  it  dining  room  and 
sitting  room. 

I  brought  beds  from  a  rear  room  to  my  own 
chamber,  for  the  lodging  of  my  family.  Alick  was 
positively  stricken  at  the  new  turn  things  had  taken; 
but  I  represented  to  him  and  to  the  boys  the  grave 
necessity,  in  their  father's  absence,  of  discreet  and 
always  courteous  behavior. 

To  add  to  my  embarrassment,  John  brought  in 
several  hundred  books  he  had  picked  up  on  the 
farm.  They  were  dumped  down  in  a  pile  in  the 
corner  of  my  reception  room. 

The  weather  was  intensely  hot.  It  was  impos- 
sible to  sit  with  closed  doors.  I  locked  the  doors 
of  my  bedroom  during  the  day,  and  all  the  family, 
except  myself,  lived  in  the  yard  under  my  eyes, 
unless  the  rain  drove  them  within. 

The  first  night  of  our  captivity  I  had  sent  my 
baby  with  her  small  nurse  to  bed.  Hearing  a  heavy 
step  overhead,  I  ran  up  to  my  room.  Standing  in 
an  easy  attitude,  leaning  on  the  mantel,  was  a  large 
negro  man.  He  was  smoking  a  cigar  and  talking 
to  Lizzie. 


366          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

cc  What  is  your  business  here  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Only  my  pleasure  —  to  pass  away  a  little  time." 

"  Look  at  me  !  " 

The  negro  raised  his  eyes  with  an  insolent  smile. 
Slowly  and  with  emphasis  I  said  :  — 

"  Do  you  leave  this  room  instantly  !  And  mark 
well  my  words.  If  ever  you  enter  it  again,  I  shall 
KILL  you  ! " 

He  left,  and  alas,  alas  !  my  poor  little  Lizzie, 
whom  I  had  hired  from  her  mother,  left  also  ;  and 
not  by  me  or  by  her  friends  was  she  ever  seen 
again  ! 

Only  those  who  have  lived  in  an  adjutant's  office 
can  know  the  ceaseless  noise,  turmoil,  tramping  to 
and  fro,  loud  talking  night  and  day.  There  was 
no  night.  The  gas  (which  they  left  me  to  pay  for) 
burned  brightly  all  night.  Officers  were  coming  in 
for  orders  day  and  night.  I  never  knew  to  what 
use  the  upper  rooms  were  put ;  I  only  know  they 
were  rarely  silent.  All  the  business  of  a  great  army 
was  transacted  here,  that  the  General's  entertaining, 
his  elegant  life,  his  sleep,  might  be  undisturbed. 

The  sentry  was  drawn  so  closely  around  my  doors 
that  I  could  never  enter  the  yard  or  garden  without 
passing  them.  Finally,  upon  going  out  to  the  little 
vine-clad  summer-house  to  give  my  baby  air  —  I 
cannot  say  fresh  air  —  one  of  the  sentinels  shook  my 
equilibrium  by  informing  me  as  I  passed :  — 

"  We've  caught  Jeff  Davis." 

When  I  returned,  my  eyes  cast  down  to  avoid 
him,  he  stepped  close  to  me  and  hissed  in  my  ear, 
"He  shall  be  hanged:' 


Insolence  of  a  Federal  Sentry  367 

Mr.  Davis  had  not  then  been  arrested,  but  this  I 
did  not  know.  Leaving  my  baby  with  her  brothers, 
I  walked  straight  into  the  veranda  of  Mr.  Hamil- 
ton's house,  asked  for  General  Sheridan,  was  ushered 
into  a  room  where  a  number  of  officers  were  sitting 
around  a  table,  and  announced  myself. 

"  I  am  Mrs.  Pry  or,  whose  house  you  have  taken 
for  an  adjutant's  office.  Sentinels  have  been  placed 
around  my  house  who  insult  me  when  I  cross  the 
threshold." 

General  Sheridan  rose :  "  What  can  we  do  for 
you,  Madam  ?  What  do  you  demand  ?  " 

"  That  the  sentry  around  my  house  be  removed 
to  the  street  enclosure." 

I  was  invited  to  take  a  seat,  but  I  preferred  stand- 
ing while  an  order  was  made  out.  I  have  often 
smiled  to  think  what  I  must  have  looked  like  to 
those  officers.  My  gown  was  of  chocolate-colored 
percale,  with  a  white  spot.  Enormous  hoops  were 
then  in  fashion.  I  had  long  since  been  abandoned 
by  mine.  I  fancy  I  resembled  nothing  so  much  as 
the  wooden  Mrs.  Noah  who  presides  over  the 
animals  in  the  children's  "  Noah's  Arks."  I  took 
the  order  given  me,  bowed  my  thanks,  and  walked 
through  a  line  of  soldiers  home.  After  this  I  had 
the  larger  liberty  my  children  needed. 

It  was  my  custom,  in  these  days  of  my  captivity, 
to  descend  early,  that  I  might  guard  my  books,  to 
my  little  reception  room.  A  dining  room  it  did  not 
become  for  a  long  time  afterward.  I  had  nothing 
whatever  to  eat  except  the  biscuits  brought  me  by 
Mr.  Bishop,  and  a  daily  tray  sent  at  noon  by  my 


3 68          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

angel  friend,  Mrs.  Meade.  She  had  some  Northern 
men  boarding  with  her  and  could  command  such  fare 
as  the  sutler  was  willing  to  sell,  for  the  farmers  were 
as  destitute  of  fresh  food  as  ourselves. 

We  had  been  excellent  customers  of  a  cigar  shop 
in  old  times,  and  the  proprietor  now  opened  his 
establishment,  and  intrusted  my  boys  and  Campbell 
with  a  "  walking  agency."  They  sold  cigars  at 
good  profit  to  the  officers  and  soldiers  around  us ; 
and  we  made  acquaintance  once  more  with  United 
States  pennies  and  dimes. 

Sitting  all  day  in  my  little  reception  room,  I  was 
cheered  by  visits  from  my  friends,  and  occasionally 
the  tenants  of  the  house  would  ask  for  a  glass  of 
water  from  the  sideboard.  Captain  Lee  came  often. 
He  confided  to  me  his  chagrin  at  the  manners  of 
the  Petersburg  ladies.  He  had  picked  up  a  veil  for 
a  pretty  girl,  and  she  had  turned  away  her  head 
when  her  hand  was  extended  to  receive  it.  The 
Captain  was  deeply  hurt :  he  was  "  a  Northern  man, 
yes,  but "  he  was  "  a  gentleman." 

One  day  Captain  Lee  informed  me  that  he  had 
good  news  for  me.  "  We  have  marching  orders ! 
We  go  to-night !  I  know  you  are  pleased  !  We 
have  given  you  so  much  trouble ! " 

"  Not  more,  I  suppose,  than  was  necessary  !  " 

"  Well,  I  must  say,  you  have  been  very  patient. 
General  Sheridan  is  in  the  office  and  wishes  to  make 
his  respects  to  you." 

The  General  entered  and  thanked  me  for  the  man- 
ner in  which  I  had  endured  all  the  inconvenience  to 
which  he  had  subjected  me.  He  seemed,  for  some 


A  Visit  from  General  Sheridan  369 

reason,  to  wish  me  to  think  well  of  his  course  toward 
us,  and  began  to  explain  it.  He  alluded  to  the 
policy  that  he  had  adopted. 

"It  was  the  very  best  thing  to  do,"  he  declared. 
"  The  only  way  to  stamp  out  this  rebellion  was  to 
handle  it  without  gloves." 

If  he  fancied  I  would  either  argue  or  agree  with 
him,  he  mistook  me.  I  was  silent.  There  was  an 
embarrassing  pause,  and  he  began  to  berate  our  gov- 
ernment for  bad  management.  "  Ladies  should  be 
better  cared  for,"  he  said. 

"Why,  I  assure  you  there  was  no  necessity  for 
your  starving  !  I  have  unearthed,  within  forty  miles 
of  this  place,  enough  provisions  to  keep  you  in 
perfect  comfort." 

Looking  down,  he  espied  the  brown  eyes  of  my 
baby  steadfastly  fastened  on  his  face. 

"  I  think  I  must  borrow  this  little  lady,"  he  said. 
"  It  is  not  often  General  Sheridan  has  anything  in 
his  arms  as  sweet  as  this." 

He  still  had  her  in  his  arms  as  he  turned  to  leave 
the  room,  and  she  gladly  went  with  him.  Presently 
she  was  brought  back  with  a  parcel  in  her  own  arms 
—  figs,  bananas,  cakes,  and  nuts. 

Captain  Lee  came  in  late  to  bid  me  good-by, 
and  to  reiterate  his  thanks. 

"  You  really  have  been  so  very  nice  !  Now  I  am 
going  to  beg  you  will  allow  me  to  make  some  return." 

I  hastened  to  accept  his  offer.  I  told  him  that 
my  General's  pet  mare,  Lady  Jane,  was  in  his  com- 
mand. She  had  been  missing  ever  since  the  battles 
around  Richmond.  John  was  sure  he  had  seen  her. 


2B 


Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

By  some  chance  she  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the 
troops  now  in  Petersburg.  Could  it  be  possible  for 
me  to  reclaim  her  ? 

The  Captain  looked  grieved. 

"  No,"  he  said ;  "  I  had  no  thought  of  anything 
of  that  kind.  But  a  great  many  ladies  have  asked 
for  what  I  am  going  to  give  you.  I  have  brought 
you  General  Sheridan's  autograph." 

He  instantly  interpreted  my  disappointment. 
Before  I  could  recover  he  added,  "  But  it  appears 
you  don't  wish  it,"  and  threw  it  on  the  table. 

"  I  can  at  least,  Captain,  be  grateful  that  you  tried 
to  please  me." 

That  night  the  adjutant's  office  was  closed.  Next 
morning  my  husband  returned.  General  Warren 
came  in  to  see  him.  General  Sheridan  stood  on 
our  porch  to  receive  the  homage  of  his  men,  bowing 
to  their  cheers.  General  Warren  looked  on  from 
our  window.  Presently  the  troops  he  had  com- 
manded when  he  was  superseded  by  Sheridan  passed 
the  house.  They  saw  their  old  commander,  and 
the  shouts,  "  Hurrah  for  General  Warren,"  must 
have  been  harsh  sounds  for  General  Sheridan. 

I  was  alone  one  afternoon  in  my  accustomed  seat, 
when  a  tall,  lantern-jawed  soldier  with  a  musket  on 
his  shoulder  marched  in. 

"  I  want  some  whiskey  !  "  he  informed  me. 

"You'll  not  get  it  here !" 

"  Wall,  I  guess  you'll  have  to  scare  it  up.  I'll 
search  the  house.' 

"  Search  away !  I'll  call  the  provost  guard  to 
help  you,"  I  said. 


Surrender  of  General  Lee  371 

He  turned  and  marched  out.  At  the  door  he 
sent  me  a  parting  shot :  — 

"  Wall !  you've  got  a  damned  tongue  ef  you 
ain't  got  no  whiskey  !  " 

My  husband  has  always  considered  this  a  very 
good  story.  I  forestall  him  by  telling  it  myself! 

I  grew  very  fond  of  General  Warren.  He  spent 
many  hours  with  us ;  tactful,  considerate,  and  kind, 
he  never  grieved  or  offended  us. 

One  evening  he  silently  took  his  seat.  Presently 
he  said  :  — 

"  I  have  news  which  will  be  painful  to  you.  It 
hurts  me  to  tell  you,  but  I  think  you  had  rather 
hear  it  from  me  than  from  a  stranger  —  General 
Lee  has  surrendered." 

It  was  an  awful  blow  to  us.  All  was  over.  All 
the  suffering,  bloodshed,  death  —  all  for  nothing  ! 

General  Johnston's  army  was  surrendered  to 
General  Sherman  in  North  Carolina  on  April  26. 
The  banner  which  had  led  the  armies  of  the  South 
through  fire  and  blood  to  victory,  to  defeat,  in  times 
of  starvation,  cold,  and  friendlessness ;  the  banner 
that  Helen's  lover  had  waved  aloft  on  a  forlorn  hope 
until  it  fell  from  his  lifeless  hands  ;  the  banner  found 
under  the  dying  boy  at  Gettysburg,  who  had  smil- 
ingly refused  assistance  lest  it  be  discovered,  —  the 
banner  of  a  thousand  histories  was  furled  forever, 
with  none  so  poor  to  do  it  reverence. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

WOE    TO    THE    VANQUISHED  ! 

IMMEDIATELY  after  General  Lee's  surren- 
der, the   United   States  Crcuit  Court  held  a 
session  at  Norfolk,  Virginia,  and  made  haste 
to  indict  for  treason  Robert  E.  Lee,  John  C.  Breck- 
enridge,  Roger  A.  Pryor,  and  others.      These  men 
thereafter  were  not  to   feel  any  sense  of  personal 
security.     A  cloud  of  doubt  and   possible  disaster 
still  hung  over  them.     Under  this  cloud  they  were 
to  commence  their  lives  anew. 

Every  one  who  has  suffered  an  overwhelming 
misfortune  must  be  conscious  of  a  strange  deadening 
of  feeling  —  more  intolerable  even  than  pain.  It 
may  be  a  merciful  provision  of  nature.  Insensi- 
bility at  a  crucial  moment  may  be  nature's  anaesthe- 
sia. Dr.  Livingstone,  the  African  explorer,  relates 
that  he  was  conscious  of  this  insensibility  when  in 
the  paws  of  a  lion.  He  had  a  theory  that  the 
instinct  of  all  animals  to  shake  their  victim,  as 
the  cat  does  a  mouse,  may  be  given  in  mercy  to  the 
vanquished.  I  was  so  completely  stunned  by  the 
thought  that  all  the  suffering,  all  the  spilt  blood, 
all  the  poverty,  all  the  desolation  of  the  South  was 
for  naught;  that  her  very  fidelity,  heroism,  and 
fortitude,  qualities  so  noble  in  themselves,  had 

372 


Dismissal  of  Servants  373 

wrought  her  undoing,  that  I  seemed  to  become 
dead  to  everything  around  me.  My  husband  was 
compelled  to  leave  me,  to  seek  employment  in 
Richmond.  My  neighbors,  like  myself,  were  stunned 
into  silence.  "  Here  I  and  sorrow  sit "  might  have 
been  said  truly  of  any  one  of  us. 

When  the  passing  troops  left  us  with  only  Gen- 
eral Hartsuffs  guard,  the  small  earnings  of  my  little 
boys  ceased.  John  and  his  fellow-servants  came 
into  town,  and  reported  to  me. 

"  I  can  no  longer  maintain  you  or  give  you 
wages,"  I  said  to  Eliza  Page  and  her  sisters. 

"  We  will  serve  you  for  the  good  you  have 
already  done  us,"  they  said,  but  of  course  I  could 
not  allow  this  to  any  extent.  Eliza  returned  to 
her  husband  and  their  little  home. 

With  John  I  had  more  trouble.  It  was  hard 
to  make  him  understand  that  I  could  not  afford 
his  services  on  any  terms. 

"  I  will  never  leave  you,"  was  his  reply  to  every- 
thing I  urged. 

"  You  must,  John  !  You  must  go  home  to  your 
father  in  Norfolk.  He  will  advise  you." 

"The  old  man  is  in  the  oyster  business,"  said 
John.  "  What  do  I  care  about  oysters  ?  All  I 
care  for  is  Marse  Roger  and  these  boys." 

I  knew  that  my  poor  John  had  an  infirmity. 
Once  when  I  had  sent  him  with  Alick  from  Cot- 
tage Farm  on  an  errand  he  had  returned  very  late. 
I  could  see  the  pair  walking  down  the  road  alone, 
followed  at  some  distance  by  the  horse  and  wagon. 
They  seemed  to  be  trying  to  compass  both  sidei  of 


374         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

the  road  at  once.  Alick  was  the  first  to  report  to 
me,  with  these  words :  — 

"I  —  I —  am'  drunk,  —  but  Jawn I  Jawn,  he 
vey  drunk ! " 

This  painful  scene  had  been  reenacted  often  enough 
to  make  me  anxious. 

"You  really  must  go  to  your  father,  John,"  I 
insisted.  "How  much  money  have  you?"  He 
had  five  dollars.  I  also  had  five,  which  I  gave  him. 

"  Now  don't  let  me  see  you  again,"  I  said. 
"  Write  to  me  from  Norfolk." 

He  left,  protesting,  but  next  morning  he  was 
gone.  I  heard  from  him  soon  and  from  his  father. 
The  old  gentleman  expressed  gratitude  and  also 
some  anxiety  about  John's  "  army  habits." 

And  so  no  more  of  the  only  slave  I  ever  owned ! 

Agnes  wrote  from  Richmond  early  in  May:  — 

"  MY  DEAREST  :  What  could  I  do  without  you  ?  Now 
don't  flatter  yourself  that  I  need  now,  or  ever  did  need,  those 
beautiful  moral  reflections  in  well-chosen  language  by  means 
of  which  you  have  striven  to  educate  me.  But  you  are  an 
unmitigated  blessing  when  my  c  feelings  are  too  many  for 
me '  —  when,  in  short,  I  boil  over. 

u  Now  when  a  kettle  boils  over  it  puts  out  the  fire,  and 
then  we  go  tea-less  to  bed.  How  nice  it  would  be  for  the 
kettle  if  some  convenient  utensil  were  at  hand  to  receive  its 
excited  bubbles. 

u  I  am  aggrieved  and  indignant  at  the  sermons  people  are 
preaching  to  us.  And  I  have  caught  a  young  brother  in  a 
flagrant  theft.  All  Richmond  is  in  a  state  of  beautiful 
admiration  at  a  sermon  it  listened  to  last  week  on  the  uses 
of  our  great  misfortune.  War  was  declared  to  be  a  blessing. 


Richmond  News  after  Lee's  Surrender     375 

1  The  high  passion  of  patriotism  prevents  the  access  of  baser 
passions.  Men's  hearts  beat  together,  and  woman  is  roused 
from  the  frivolousness  and  feebleness  into  which  her  nature 
is  apt  to  sink.  Death,  insult,  carnage,  violated  homes,  and 
broken  hearts  are  all  awful.  But  it  is  worse  than  a  thousand 
deaths  when  a  people  has  adopted  the  creed  that  the  wealth 
of  nations  consists  —  not  in  generous  hearts,  in  primitive 
simplicity,  in  preference  of  duty  to  life;  not  in  MEN,  but  in 
silk,  cotton,  and  something  that  they  call  "  capital."  If  the 
price  to  be  paid  for  peace  is  this  —  that  wealth  accumulates 
and  men  decay,  better  far  that  every  street  in  every  town 
of  our  once  noble  country  should  run  blood.' 

u  Now  all  this  is  very  fine,  but  very  one-sided.  And  my 
brother  didn't  believe  a  word  of  it.  He  has  been  away  in 
England  and  has  seen  none  of  the  horrors  of  war ;  but  he 
has  seen  something  else  —  a  very  charming  lecture  printed 
in  London  some  time  before  the  war.1 

"  Strange  are  the  ways  of  Providence.  Precisely  that  I 
might  convict  him  did  this  address  fall  into  my  hands  in 
Washington.  It  struck  me  forcibly  at  the  time.  Little 
did  I  think  I  should  hear  it  in  Richmond  after  a  terrible 
civil  war  of  our  own. 

"  I  feel  impatient  at  this  attempt  to  extort  good  for  our- 
selves out  of  the  overwhelming  disaster  which  brought  such 
ruin  to  others  ;  to  congratulate  ourselves  for  what  is  pur- 
chased with  their  blood.  Surely,  if  for  no  other  reason, 
for  the  sake  of  the  blood  that  has  been  spilt,  we  should  not 
hasten  to  acquiesce  in  the  present  state  of  things.  If  I 
catch  my  Colonel  piously  affirming  too  much  resignation, 
too  prompt  a  forgetfulness  of  the  past,  I'll  —  well,  he  knows 
what  I  am  capable  of  saying ! 

u  But,  now  that  I  have  safely  boiled  over,  I  will  tell  you 
my  news.  We  cannot  remain  here.  We  are  literally 
stripped  to  the  c  primitive '  state  my  reverend  brother  thinks 

1  Lecture  to  members  of  the  Mechanics'  Institution,  February,  1853. 


Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

so  good  for  us.  We  are  wofully  in  need  of  c  silk,  cotton, 
and  something  they  call  capital,'  and  we'll  never  get  it  here. 
And  so  my  Colonel  and  I  are  going  to  New  York.  He  has 
secured  a  place  in  some  publishing  house  or  other.  I  only 
wish  it  were  a  dry-goods  store  ! 

"  Of  course  our  social  life  is  all  over.  I  have  taken  my 
resolution.  There  are  fine  ladies  in  New  York  whom  I 
used  to  entertain  in  Washington.  Just  so  far  as  they 
approach  me,  will  I  approach  them  !  A  card  for  a  card,  a 
visit  for  a  visit.  But  I  imagine  I  shall  not  be  recognized. 
I  am  content.  There  will  be  plenty  to  read  in  that  publishing 
house.  I  shall  not  repine.  All  the  setting,  the  entourage, 
of  a  lady  is  taken  from  me,  but  the  lady  herself  has  herself 
pretty  well  in  hand,  and  is  quite  content  if  she  may  always 
be 

"  Your  devoted 

"  AGNES." 


The  time  now  came  when  I  must  draw  rations 
for  my  family.  I  could  not  do  this  by  proxy.  I 
was  required  to  present  my  request  in  person. 

As  I  walked  through  the  streets  in  early  morn- 
ing, I  thought  I  had  never  known  a  lovelier  day. 
How  could  Nature  spread  her  canopy  of  blossoming 
magnolia  and  locust  as  if  nothing  had  happened? 
How  could  the  vine  over  the  doorway  of  my  old 
home  load  itself  with  snowy  roses,  how  could  the 
birds  sing,  how  could  the  sun  shine  as  if  such  things 
as  these  could  ever  again  gladden  our  broken  hearts  ? 

My  dear  little  sons  understood  they  were  to 
escort  me  everywhere,  so  we  presented  ourselves 
together  at  the  desk  of  the  government  official  and 
announced  our  errand. 


Federal  Rations  of  a  Novel  Nature       377 

"  Have  you  taken  the  oath  of  allegiance, 
Madam  ?  "  inquired  that  gentleman. 

"  No,  Sir."     I  was  quite  prepared  to  take  the  oath. 

The  young  officer  looked  at  me  seriously 
for  a  moment,  and  said,  as  he  wrote  out  the 
order  :  — 

"  Neither  will  I  require  it  of  you,  Madam  !  " 

I  was  in  better  spirits  after  this  pleasant  incident, 
and,  calling  to  Alick,  I  bade  him  arm  himself  with 
the  largest  basket  he  could  find  and  take  my  order 
to  the  commissary. 

"  We  are  going  to  have  all  sorts  of  good  things/' 
I  told  him,  "  fresh  meat,  fruit,  vegetables,  and 
everything." 

When  the  boy  returned  he  presented  a  drooping 
figure  and  a  woebegone  face.  My  first  unworthy 
suspicion  suggested  his  possible  confiscation  of  my 
stores  for  drink,  but  he  soon  explained. 

"  I  buried  that  ole  stinkin'  fish !  I  wouldn't 
bring  it  in  your  presence.  An'  here's  the  meal 
they  give  me." 

Hairy  caterpillars  were  jumping  through  the 
meal !  I  turned  to  my  table  and  wrote :  — 

u  Is  the  commanding  general  aware  of  the  nature  of  the 
ration  issued  this  day  to  the  destitute  women  of  Peters- 
burg ?  "  (signing  myself) 

"MRS.  ROGER  A.  PRYOR." 

This  I  gave  to  Alick,  with  instructions  to  present 
it,  with  the  meal,  to  General  Hartsuff. 


378          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

Alick  returned  with  no  answer ;  but  in  a  few  min- 
utes a  tall  orderly  stood  before  me,  touched  his  cap, 
and  handed  me  a  note. 

"  Major-General  Hartsuff  is  sorry  he  cannot  make  right 
all  that  seems  so  wrong.  He  sends  the  enclosed.  Some 
day  General  Pryor  will  repay 

"  GEORGE  L.  HARTSUFF, 
"  Major-General  Commanding." 

The  note  contained  an  official  slip  of  paper :  — 

"  The  Quartermaster  and  Commissary  of  the  Army  of 
the  Potomac  are  hereby  ordered  to  furnish  Mrs.  Roger  A. 
Pryor  with  all  she  may  demand  or  require,  charging  the 
same  to  the  private  account  of 

"  GEORGE  L.  HARTSUFF, 
"  Major-General  Commanding" 

Without  the  briefest  deliberation  I  wrote  and 
returned  the  following  reply  :  — 

"  Mrs.  Roger  A.  Pryor  is  not  insensible  to  the  generous 
offer  of  Major-General  Hartsuff,  but  be  ought  to  have  known 
that  the  ration  allowed  the  destitute  women  of  Petersburg 
must  be  enough  for 

"  MRS.  ROGER  A.  PRYOR." 

As  I  sat  alone,  revolving  various  schemes  for  our 
sustenance,  —  the  selling  of  the  precious  testimonial 
service  (given  by  the  Democracy  of  Virginia  after 
my  husband's  noble  fight  against  "  Know-noth- 
ingism"),  the  possibility  of  finding  occupation  for 


Mrs.  HartsufFs  Sympathy  379 

myself,  —  the  jingling  of  chain  harness  at  the  door 
arrested  my  attention.  There  stood  a  handsome 
equipage,  from  which  a  very  fine  lady  indeed  was 
alighting.  She  bustled  in  with  her  lace-edged  hand- 
kerchief to  her  eyes,  and  announced  herself  as  Mrs. 
Hartsuff.  She  was  superbly  gowned  in  violet  silk 
and  lace,  with  a  tiny  fanchon  bonnet  tied  beneath 
an  enormous  cushion  of  hair  behind,  the  first  of  the 
fashionable  chignons  I  had  seen  —  an  arrangement 
called  a  "  waterfall,"  an  exaggeration  of  the  plethoric, 
distended  "  bun  "  of  the  Englishwoman  of  a  few 
years  ago. 

"  Oh,  my  dear  lady,"  she  began,  "  we  are  in  such 
distress  at  headquarters !  George  is  in  despair ! 
You  won't  let  him  help  you  !  Whatever  is  he  to 
do?" 

"  I  really  am  grateful  to  the  General,"  I  assured 
her ;  "  but  you  see  there  is  no  reason  he  should  do 
more  for  me  than  for  others." 

"  Oh,  but  there  is  reason.  You  have  suffered 
more  than  the  rest.  You  have  been  driven  from 
your  home  !  Your  house  has  been  sacked.  George 
knows  all  about  you.  I  have  brought  a  basket  for 
you  —  tea,  coffee,  sugar,  crackers." 

"  I  cannot  accept  it,  I  am  so  sorry." 

"  But  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?  Are  you  going 
to  starve  ? " 

"  Very  likely,"  I  said,  "  but  somehow  I  shall  not 
very  much  mind  !  " 

"  Oh,  this  is  too  utterly,  utterly  dreadful ! "  said 
the  lady  as  she  left  the  room. 

The  next  day  the    ration   was    changed.     Fresh 


380         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

beef,  canned  vegetables,  bread,  and  coffee  were  issued 
to  all  the  women  of  Petersburg.  Mrs.  Hartsuff 
came  daily  to  see  me.  "  Not  that  George  has 
gotten  over  it !  "  she  declared.  "  His  feelings  are 
constantly  hurt  here.  And  as  to  myself,  that  old 
black  Irene  I  found  in  the  kitchen  at  Centre  Hill 
just  walks  over  me  !  " 

"  Why  don't  you  dismiss  her  ?  " 

"Dismiss  Irene?  I  should  like  to  see  anybody 
dismiss  Irene !  Besides,  she  cooks  divinely.  But 
I  can't  enter  her  kitchen  !  c  Dear  me/  I  said  one 
day,  c  what  a  dirty  kitchen  ! '  c  Ladies  don't  nuvver 
come  in  kitchens/  she  told  me.  Evidently  I  am 
not  a  lady  !  And  I  once  asked  her  please  to  be 
careful  of  the  gold  studs  the  General  was  apt  to  leave 
in  his  cuffs.  (  Gold  studs  ! '  she  repeated  with  a  sniff, 
c  my  master  wore  diamond  studs,  an'  I  never  see 
cuffs  loose  from  shirts  before  in  all  my  born  days. 
'Cose  the  wind'll  blow  'em  away  !  I  can't  be  'spon- 
sible  for  no  shirt  that's  in  three  or  four  pieces.' ' 

All  the  good  citizens  of  Petersburg  who  had  been 
driven  away  by  the  shelling  now  began  to  return, 
and  among  them  came  the  owners  of  the  house  I 
was  occupying.  I  was  told  that  I  could,  on  no 
account,  be  safe  at  Cottage  Farm  without  a  guard. 
For  this,  too,  I  must  make  personal  request.  So  my 
little  body-guard  and  I  wended  our  way  to  interview 
General  Hartsuff. 

We  found  him  in  the  noble  mansion  of  the  Boi- 
lings. At  the  entrance  two  fine  greyhounds  in 
marble  had  for  many  years  guarded  the  incoming 
and  outgoing  of  the  Boiling  family.  In  the  rear 


Interviewing  General  Hartsuff  381 

there  was  a  long  veranda  with  lofty  pillars,  and 
beyond,  extensive  grounds  set  with  well-grown  ever- 
greens, and  with  that  princely  tree,  the  magnolia 
grandiflora^  now  in  bloom.  White  marble  statues 
and  marble  seats  were  scattered  through  the  grounds. 
A  rustic  staircase  led  down  to  a  conservatory,  built 
low  for  the  better  care  of  the  plants.  The  mansion 
stood  on  an  eminence  sloping  sharply  in  front,  and 
a  legend-haunted  subterranean  passage  led  from  the 
dwelling  to  the  street,  the  entrance  to  which  was 
covered  by  shrubs  and  vines. 

As  I  stood  in  the  veranda  waiting  for  audience,  a 
young  officer  called  my  attention  to  the  beauty  of 
the  grounds  and  the  magnificence  of  the  flowering 
plants  in  tubs  on  the  veranda.  "  I  should  like,"  he 
said,  "  to  fight  it  out  on  this  line  all  summer." 

I  thought  of  the  family  driven  from  their  own, 
and  was  wicked  enough  to  tell  him  :  — 

"  That  would  be  most  unfortunate  for  you.  This 
place  is  very  sickly  in  summer  —  deadly,  in  fact. 
Typhoid  fever  is  fatal  in  this  section." 

But  I  was  summoned  to  the  presence  of  the  great 
man.  As  I  entered,  he  continued  writing  at  a 
table,  without  greeting  me  or  looking  up  from  his 
paper. 

"General,"  I  commenced,  "I  have  come  to  ask 
if  I  may  have  a  guard.  I  am  about  to  return  to  my 
home  —  Cottage  Farm." 

No  answer,  except  the  rapid  scratching  of  his  pen 
as  it  travelled  over  his  sheet. 

"  General  HartsufT,  are  you  still  angry  with  me 
because  I  did  not  feel  I  could  accept  your  kind  offer  ? 


382          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

I  couldn't  take  it !  I  couldn't  trust  myself  with  it ! 
I  should  have  given  a  ball  and  ruined  you." 

He  laughed  outright  at  this  and  threw  down  his 
pen. 

"  It  is  impossible  for  you  to  go  to  Cottage 
Farm,"  he  said  ;  "  there  are  fifty  or  more  negroes 
on  the  place.  You  cannot  live  there." 

"  I  must !  it  is  my  only  shelter." 

"  Well,  then,  I'll  allow  you  a  guard,  and  Mrs. 
Hartsuff  had  better  take  you  out  herself,  that  is, 
if  you  can  condescend  to  accept  as  much." 

I  was  not  aware  that  Mrs.  Hartsuff  had  entered 
and  stood  behind  me. 

"  And  I  think,  George,"  she  said,  "  you  ought  to 
give  Mrs.  Pryor  a  horse  and  cart  in  place  of  her 
own  that  were  stolen." 

"  All  right,  all  right,"  he  said  hastily.  "  Madam, 
you  will  find  the  guard  at  your  door  when  you  arrive. 
You  go  this  evening?  All  right  —  good  morning." 

Mrs.  Hartsuff  duly  appeared  in  the  late  after- 
noon with  an  ambulance  and  four  horses,  and  we 
departed  in  fine  style.  She  was  very  cheery  and 
agreeable,  and  made  me  promise  to  let  her  come 
often  to  see  me.  As  we  were  galloping  along  in 
state,  we  passed  a  line  of  weary-looking,  dusty 
Confederate  soldiers,  limping  along,  on  their  way 
to  their  homes.  They  stood  aside  to  let  us  pass. 
I  was  cut  to  the  heart  at  the  spectacle.  Here  was 
I,  accepting  the  handsome  equipage  of  the  invading 
commander  —  I,  who  had  done  nothing,  going 
on  to  my  comfortable  home ;  while  they,  poor  fel- 
lows, who  had  borne  long  years  of  battle  and  star- 


Home-coming  after  War  383 

vation,  were  mournfully  returning  on  foot,  to  find, 
perhaps,  no  home  to  shelter  them.  "  Never  again/' 
I  said  to  myself,  "  shall  this  happen  !  If  I  cannot 
help,  I  can  at  least  suffer  with  them." 

But  when  J  reached  Cottage  Farm  I  found  a 
home  that  no  soldier,  however  forlorn,  could  have 
envied  me.  A  scene  of  desolation  met  my  eyes. 
The  earth  was  ploughed  and  trampled,  the  grass 
and  flowers  were  gone,  the  carcasses  of  six  dead 
cows  lay  in  the  yard,  and  filth  unspeakable  had 
gathered  in  the  corners  of  the  house.  The  evening 
air  was  heavy  with  the  sickening  odor  of  decaying 
flesh.  As  the  front  door  opened,  millions  of  flies 
swarmed  forth. 

"  If  this  were  I/'  said  Mrs.  HartsufF,  as  she 
gathered  her  skirts  as  closely  around  her  as  her 
hoops  would  permit,  "  I  should  fall  across  this 
threshold  and  die/' 

"  I  shall  not  fall,"  I  said  proudly ;  "  I  shall  stand 
in  my  lot." 

Within  was  dirt  and  desolation.  Pieces  of  fat 
pork  lay  on  the  floors,  molasses  trickled  from  the 
library  shelves,  where  bottles  lay  uncorked.  Filthy, 
malodorous  tin  cans  were  scattered  on  the  floors. 
Nothing,  not  even  a  tin  dipper  to  drink  out  of  the 
well,  was  left  in  the  house,  except  one  chair  out  of 
which  the  bottom  had  been  cut,  and  one  bedstead 
fastened  together  with  bayonets.  Picture  frames 
were  piled  against  the  wall.  I  eagerly  examined 
them.  Every  one  was  empty.  One  family  por- 
trait of  an  old  lady  was  hanging  on  the  wall  with  a 
sabre-cut  across  her  face. 


384         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

"  Now,  what  in  the  world  are  you  going  to  do  ? " 
asked  Mrs.  Hartsuff. 

"  The  best  I  can,"  I  said. 

But  old  Aunt  Jinny  had  espied  me,  and,  with  a 
courtesy  to  Mrs.  Hartsuff,  had  seized  my  little  girl. 

"  This  is  a  hard  home-coming  for  you,  my  po' 
lamb  !  But  never  mind !  Jinny  has  got  plenty 
of  clean  bedclothes  and  things.  Yes,  marm  "  (to 
Mrs.  Hartsuff),  "  I  can  take  care  of  'em  !  The 
colored  people  ?  Oh,  the  colored  people  will  give 

11  -ni_  LI      >> 

no  trouble.      I  hey  are  very  peaceable. 

She  gathered  us  into  her  kitchen  while  she  swept 
a  room  for  us  and  spread  quilts  upon  the  floor. 
Later  in  the  evening  an  ambulance  from  Mrs. 
Hartsuff  drove  up.  She  had  sent  me  a  tin  box  of 
bread-and-butter  sandwiches,  some  tea,  an  army  cot, 
and  army  bedding. 

The  guard,  a  great,  tall  fellow,  came  to  me  for 
orders.  I  felt  nervous  at  his  presence  and  wished 
I  had  not  brought  him.  I  directed  him  to  watch 
all  night  at  the  road  side  of  the  house,  while  I 
would  sit  up  and  keep  watch  in  the  opposite  direc- 
tion. The  children  soon  slept  upon  the  floor. 

As  the  night  wore  on,  I  grew  extremely  anxious 
about  the  strange  negroes.  Aunt  Jinny  thought 
there  were  not  more  than  fifty.  They  had  filled 
every  outhouse  except  the  kitchen.  Suppose  they 
should  overpower  the  guard  and  murder  us  all. 

Everything  was  quiet.  I  had  not  the  least  dis- 
position to  sleep  —  thinking,  thinking,  of  all  the 
old  woman  had  told  me  of  the  sacking  of  the  house, 
of  the  digging  of  the  cellar  in  search  of  treasure,  of 


The  Lonely  Vigil  at  Night  385 

the  torch  that  had  twice  been  applied  to  the  house, 
and  twice  withdrawn  because  some  officer  wanted 
the  shaded  dwelling  for  a  temporary  lodging.  Pres- 
ently I  was  startled  by  a  shrill  scream  from  the 
kitchen,  a  door  opened  suddenly  and  shut,  and 
a  voice  cried,  "  Thank  Gawd !  Thank  Gawd 
A'mighty."  Then  all  was  still. 

Was  this  a  signal  ?  I  held  my  breath  and  lis- 
tened, then  softly  rose,  closed  the  shutters  and 
fastened  them,  crept  to  the  door,  and  bolted  it 
inside.  I  might  defend  my  children  till  the  guard 
could  come. 

Evidently  he  had  not  heard  !  He  was  probably 
sleeping  the  sleep  of  an  untroubled  conscience  on 
the  bench  in  the  front  porch.  And  with  untroubled 
consciences  my  children  were  sleeping.  It  was  so 
dark  in  the  room  I  could  not  see  their  faces,  but  I 
could  touch  them,  and  push  the  wet  locks  from 
their  brows,  as  they  lay  in  the  close  and  heated 
atmosphere. 

I  resumed  my  watch  at  the  window,  pressing  my 
face  close  to  the  slats  of  the  shutters.  A  pale  half- 
moon  hung  low  in  the  sky,  turning  its  averted  face 
from  a  suffering  world.  At  a  little  distance  I  could 
see  the  freshly  made  soldier's  grave  which  Alick  had 
discovered  and  reported.  A  heavy  rain  had  fallen 
in  the  first  hours  of  the  night,  and  a  stiff  arm  and 
hand  now  protruded  from  the  shallow  grave.  To- 
morrow I  would  reverently  cover  the  appealing  arm, 
be  it  clad  in  blue  or  in  gray,  and  would  mark  the 
spot.  Now,  as  I  sat  with  my  fascinated  gaze  upon 
it,  I  thought  of  the  tens  of  thousands,  of  the  hun- 

2C 


386          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

dreds  of  thousands,  of  upturned  faces  beneath  the 
green  sod  of  old  Virginia.  Strong  in  early  man- 
hood, brave,  high-spirited  men  of  genius,  men 
whom  their  country  had  educated  for  her  own 
defence  in  time  of  peril,  —  they  had  died  because 
that  country  could  devise  in  her  wisdom  no  better 
means  of  settling  a  family  quarrel  than  the  whole- 
sale slaughter  of  her  sons  by  the  sword.  And  now  ? 
"  Not  till  the  heavens  be  no  more  shall  they  awake 
nor  be  raised  out  of  their  sleep." 

And  then,  as  I  sorrowed  for  their  early  death  in 
loneliness  and  anguish,  I  remembered  the  white- 
robed  souls  beneath  the  altar  of  God, — the  souls 
that  had  "  come  out  of  great  tribulation,"  —  and 
because  they  had  thus  suffered  "  they  shall  hunger 
no  more,  neither  thirst  any  more ;  .  .  .  and  God 
shall  wipe  away  all  tears  from  their  eyes." 

And  then,  as  the  pale,  distressful  moon  sank 
behind  the  trees,  and  the  red  dawn  streamed  up 
from  the  east,  the  angel  of  Hope,  who  had  "  spread 
her  white  wings  and  sped  her  away "  for  a  little 
season,  returned.  And  Hope  held  by  the  hand  an 
angel  stronger  than  she,  who  bore  to  me  a  message  : 
"In  the  world  ye  have  tribulation :  but  be  of  good 
cheer ;  I  have  overcome  the  world." 

The  sun  was  rising  when  I  saw  my  good  old 
friend  emerge  from  her  kitchen,  and  I  opened  the 
shutters  to  greet  her.  She  had  brought  me  a  cup 
of  delicious  coffee,  and  was  much  distressed  because 
I  had  not  slept.  Had  I  heard  anything  ? 

"  Course  I  know  you  was  bleeged  to  hear,"  said 
Aunt  Jinny,  as  she  bustled  over  the  children.  "  That 


An  Address  to  Homeless  Negroes        387 

was  Sis'  Winny !  She  got  happy  in  the  middle  of  the 
night,  an'  Gawd  knows  what  she  would  have  done, 
if  Frank  hadn't  ketched  hold  of  her  and  pulled  her 
back  in  the  kitchen  !  Frank  an'  me  is  pretty  nigh 
outdone  an'  discouraged  'bout  Sis'  Winny.  She 
prays  constant  all  day  ;  but  Gawd  A'mighty  don't 
count  on  bein'  bothered  all  night.  Ain'  He  'ranged 
for  us  all  to  sleep,  an'  let  Him  have  a  little  peace  ? 
Sis'  Winny  must  keep  her  happiness  to  herself,  when 
folks  is  trying  to  git  some  res'." 

The  guard  now  came  to  my  window  to  say  he 
"  guessed  "  he'd  "  have  to  put  on  some  more  har- 
ness. Them  blamed  niggers  refused  to  leave. 
They  might  change  their  minds  when  they  saw  the 
pistols." 

"  Oh,  you  wouldn't  shoot,  would  you  ?  "  I  said, 
in  great  distress.  "  Call  them  all  to  the  back  door 
and  let  me  speak  with  them."  I  found  myself  in 
the  presence  of  some  seventy-five  negroes,  men, 
women,  and  children,  all  with  upturned  faces,  keenly 
interested  in  what  I  should  say  to  them. 

I  talked  to  them  kindly,  and  told  them  I  was 
sorry  to  see  so  many  of  them  without  homes.  One 
of  them,  an  intelligent-looking  man,  interrupted  me. 

"  We  are  not  without  homes,"  he  said.  "  I  planted 
and  worked  on  this  place  for  years  before  the  war. 
It  is  right  I  should  have  some  choice  in  the  land 
the  government  promises  us,  and  I  have  come  here 
because  I  shall  ask  for  the  land  I  have  worked." 

"You  are  mistaken,  I  am  sure,"  I  said.  "This 
farm  belongs  to  my  brother,  not  to  me.  I  am  here 
through  his  kindness,  and  I  am  perfectly  willing 


388         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

you  should  remain  through  mine  until  you  find 
other  shelter,  provided  you  consider  my  husband 
master  here,  give  no  trouble,  and  help  me  clean  up 
this  place.  All  who  are  not  willing  to  do  this  must 
leave.  You  must  distinctly  understand  this  is 
private  property  which  will  be  protected  by  the 
government/* 

"  That's  so  ! "  said  the  guard,  emphatically. 
Thereupon  an  old,  gray-haired  man  stepped  forth 
and  said :  — 

"My  name's  Abram  !  I'se  toted  Marse  Roger 
on  my  back  to  school  many  a  time.  Me  an'  my 
family  will  stay  an'  clean  up,  an'  thank  you,  Mistis ! 
Come  now !  You  all  hear  what  the  Yankee  gentle- 
man say  !  Git  to  work  now  on  them  dead  cows  — 
hurry  up !  " 

I  sent  Abram  to  the  quartermaster,  and  bor- 
rowed a  team  to  haul  away  the  filth  and  the  dead 
animals.  My  faithful  old  friend  in  the  kitchen  lent 
me  chairs  and  a  table,  and  before  night  we  were 
comparatively  clean,  having  had  a  score  or  more 
scrubbers,  and  as  many  out-of-door  laborers  at 
work.  My  husband  returned  to  us,  and  we  com- 
menced our  new  life  of  hopeless  destitution.  Not 
before  October  could  I  get  my  consent  to  eat  a 
morsel  in  the  house.  I  took  my  meals  under  the 
trees,  unless  driven  by  the  rains  to  the  shelter  of  the 
porch.  The  old  woman  who  had  been  so  unreason- 
ably happy  —  "  Sis'  Winny  "  —  proved  to  be  a  mere 
atom  of  a  creature,  withered,  and  bent  almost  double 
with  age  and  infirmities,  whom  Aunt  Jinny  had 
taken  in  out  of  sheer  compassion.  If  she  could 


Faithful  Old  Family  Servants  389 

find  something  for  which  to  thank  God,  surely  none 
need  despair. 

To  my  great  joy,  my  dear  General  had  not 
remained  in  Richmond.  There  was  no  hope  there 
for  immediate  occupation.  His  profession  of  law,  for 
which  he  had  been  educated,  promised  nothing, 
for  the  very  good  reason  that  he  had  forgotten  all 
he  ever  knew  in  his  later  profession  of  editor  and 
politician.  The  latter  field  was  closed  to  him  for- 
ever. There  was  nothing  for  a  rebel  to  earn  in 
editing  a  newspaper. 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

STARTING    LIFE    ANEW 

WE  suffered  terribly  during  the  ensuing 
months  for  want  of  something  in  which 
we  might  occupy  ourselves.  We  sat 
silently,  looking  out  on  a  landscape  marked  here 
and  there  by  chimneys  standing  sentinel  over  the 
blackened  heaps  where  our  neighbors  had  made 
happy  homes.  A  few  books  had  been  saved,  only 
those  for  which  we  had  little  use.  A  soldier  walked 
in  one  day  with  a  handsome  volume  which  Jef- 
ferson Davis,  after  inscribing  his  name  in  it,  had  pre- 
sented to  the  General.  The  soldier  calmly  requested 
the  former  owner  to  be  kind  enough  to  add  to  the 
value  of  the  volume  by  writing  beneath  the  inscrip- 
tion his  own  autograph,  and,  his  request  granted, 
walked  off  with  it  under  his  arm.  "He  has  been 
at  some  trouble/*  said  my  husband,  "  and  he  had 
as  well  be  happy  if  I  cannot !  " 

As  the  various  brigades  moved  away  from  our 
neighborhood  a  few  plain  articles  of  furniture  that 
had  been  taken  from  the  house  were  restored  to  us, 
but  nothing  handsome  or  valuable,  no  books,  pic- 
tures, bric-a-brac •,  or  house-furnishings  of  any  kind  — 
just  a  few  chairs  and  tables.  I  had  furnished  an 

390 


Request  for  Pedigree  of  Stolen  Mare      391 

itemized  list  of  all  the  articles  we  had  lost,  with  only 
this  result. 

We  had  news  after  a  while  of  our  blooded  mare, 
Lady  Jane.  A  letter  enclosing  her  photograph 
came  from  a  New  England  officer :  — 

"  To  MR.  PRYOR, 

"  DEAR  SIR  :  A  very  fine  mare  belonging  to  you  came 
into  my  camp  near  Richmond  and  is  now  with  me.  It 
would  add  much  to  her  value  if  I  could  get  her  pedigree. 
Kindly  send  it  at  your  earliest  convenience,  and  oblige 

"  Yours  truly, 


"  P.S.  The  mare  is  in  good  health,  as  you  will  doubtless 
be  glad  to  know." 

Disposed  as  my  General  was  to  be  amiable,  this 
was  a  little  too  much  !  The  pedigree  was  not  sent. 

A  great  number  of  tourists  soon  began  to  pass 
our  house  on  their  way  to  visit  the  localities  near 
us,  now  become  historic.  They  wished  to  stand  on 
the  site  of  General  Lee's  headquarters,  to  pluck  a 
blade  of  grass  from  the  hollow  of  the  crater,  to  visit 
the  abattis,  lunettes,  and  fortifications  of  both  lines, 
especially  Fort  Steadman,  Fort  Gregg,  and  Battery 
45,  where  the  lines  were  broken  the  last  of  March 
and  on  April  2. 

These  tourists,  men  and  women,  would  pause  at 
the  well,  some  on  horseback,  others  in  the  dilapi- 
dated landaus  or  buggies  for  hire  in  Petersburg. 
Uncle  Frank,  with  his  flow  of  courteous  language 
and  his  attractive  manners,  would  usually  meet  and 
discourse  to  them,  earning  many  a  douceur  by  drawing 


392          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

from  the  well  the  cold  water  for  which  it  was  famous. 
Abram's  family  was  abroad  in  the  fields,  where  the 
old  man  had  planted  corn  in  June  —  too  late  to  hope 
for  other  harvest  than  the  fodder  to  feed  the  horse 
the  quartermaster  had  given  him  at  my  earnest 
request.  Under  the  impression  that  we  were  still 
working  our  negroes,  some  of  the  tourists  would 
dismount  and  harangue  Abram  at  length  upon  his 
"rights."  The  old  man  would  listen  respectfully, 
shaking  his  gray  head  dubiously  as  they  rode  off. 
"  Recollect,  boy,"  said  one  of  these  travellers  to 
Alick,  "  the  white  woman  in  that  house  is  now  your 
slave  !  "  Alick  was  standing  beneath  my  window, 
amusing  himself  by  tying  up  a  rosebush.  He  looked 
up,  simply  advising  me,  — "  Let  'em  go  'long," — and 
resumed  his  work  in  training  the  rosebush. 

Sometimes  the  tourists  would  ask  permission  to 
call  on  us,  claiming  some  common  acquaintance. 
My  husband  was  inclined  to  resent  this.  Their 
sympathetic  attitude  was  offensive  to  him.  Like  the 
Douglas  he  had  endured  much,  but  — 

"  Last  and  worst,  to  spirit  proud 
To  bear  the  pity  of  the  crowd  :  "  — 

this  was  more  than  he  could  endure. 

We  were  perfectly  aware  that  they  wished  to  see  usy 
and  not  to  gain,  as  they  affected,  information  about 
the  historic  localities  on  the  farm.  Still  less  did  they 
desire  ignobly  to  triumph  over  us.  A  boy,  when 
he  tears  off  the  wings  of  a  fly,  is  much  interested  in 
observing  its  actions,  not  that  he  is  cruel  —  far  from 


Visits  from  Tourists  393 

it !  He  is  only  curious  to  see  how  the  creature  will 
behave  under  very  disadvantageous  circumstances. 

One  day  a  clergyman  called,  with  a  card  of  intro- 
duction from  Mrs.  Hartsuff,  who  had,  I  imagine, 
small  discernment  as  regards  clergymen.  This  one 
was  a  smug  little  man,  —  sleek,  unctuous,  and  trim, 
with  Pecksniffian  self-esteem  oozing  out  of  every 
pore  of  his  face. 

"  Well,  Madam,"  he  commenced,  "  I  trust  I  find 
you  lying  meekly  under  the  chastening  rod  of 
the  Lord.  I  trust  you  can  say  'it  is  good  I  was 
afflicted.' ' 

Having  no  suitable  answer  just  ready,  I  received 
his  pious  exhortation  in  silence.  One  can  always 
safely  do  this  with  a  clergyman. 

"There  are  seasons,"  continued  the  good  man, 
"  when  chastisement  must  be  meted  out  to  the  trans- 
gressor ;  but  if  borne  in  the  right  spirit,  the  rod  may 
blossom  with  blessings  in  the  end." 

A  little  more  of  the  same  nature  wrung  from  me 
the  query,  "  Are  there  none  on  the  other  side  who 
need  the  rod  ?  " 

"Oh  —  well,  now  —  my  dear  lady!  You  must 
consider !  You  were  in  the  wrong  in  this  unhappy 
contest,  or,  I  should  say,  this  most  righteous  war." 

"  V&  victis  /  "  I  exclaimed.  "  Our  homes  were 
invaded.  We  are  on  our  own  soil !  " 

My  reverend  brother  grew  red  in  the  face.  Ris- 
ing and  bowing  himself  out,  he  sent  me  a  Parthian 
arrow :  — 

"  No  thief  e'er  felt  the  halter  draw 
With  good  opinion  of  the  law." 


394         Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

On  the  afternoon  of  a  sultry  day,  a  black  cloud 
suddenly  darkened  the  sky,  thundered,  lightened,  and 
poured  down  a  pelting  storm  of  hailstones  and  rain. 
A  party  of  young  people  galloped  up  to  the  gate, 
hastily  dismounted,  and  ran  for  the  shelter  of  our 
porch.  There  were  half  a  dozen  or  more  young 
girls  and  men.  The  small  roof  affording  them  scant 
shelter,  I  invited  them  into  the  parlor,  where  they 
stood  dripping  and  shivering  until  a  fire  was  kindled. 
A  sudden  cold  wind  came  on  with  the  hail.  It  had  been 
a  long  time  since  I  had  seen  happy,  cheerful  young 
girls  in  their  riding-habits,  and  I  fell  in  love  with 
them  at  once,  putting  them  at  ease,  chafing  their 
hands,  and  drying  their  little  coats.  I  never  saw 
young  folk  so  much  embarrassed.  They  were 
Northern  tourists,  and  felt  the  full  force  of  our 
relative  positions.  When  hot  tea  was  brought  in, 
they  were  overwhelmed.  I  was  loath  to  give  them 
up  —  these  pretty  girls.  When  they  bade  me  good-by 
and  thanked  me  for  my  nice  tea  and  fire,  the  black 
eyes  of  one  little  beauty  snapped  with  an  unmistak- 
able expression  —  "  for  your  coals  of  fire  !  " 

Such  incidents  as  these  were  our  only  events. 
Our  friends  in  town  were  in  too  much  poverty  and 
sorrow  to  visit  us.  A  deadly  silence  and  apathy 
had  succeeded  the  storm.  It  was  a  long  time 
before  the  community  waked  up  from  this  apathy 
—  not,  indeed,  until  the  cool,  invigorating  weather 
of  autumn.  The  blood-soaked  soil  and  the  dead 
animals  emitted  sickening  odors  until  the  frosts 
came  to  chain  them  up. 

A   bachelor   friend   occasionally  visited    us   and 


General  Grant  and  the  "Met  Bullets"     395 

invited  the  little  boys  to  accompany  him  upon  relic- 
hunting  expeditions  to  the  narrow  plain  which  had 
divided  the  opposing  lines  on  that  fateful  April 
morning,  just  three  months  before.  Ropes  were 
fastened  around  extinct  shells,  and  they  were  hauled 
in,  to  stand  sentinel  at  the  door.  The  shells  were 
short  cylinders,  with  one  pointed  end  like  a  candle 
before  it  is  lighted.  Numbers  of  minie  balls  were 
dug  out  of  the  sand. 

One  day  Mr.  Kemp  brought  in  a  great  curiosity  — 
two  bullets  welded  together,  having  been  shot  from 
opposing  rifles. 

Twenty  years  afterward  I  showed  this  twin-bullet 
to  General  Grant,  not  long  before  his  last  illness. 
With  Mrs.  Grant,  he  had  called  at  my  home  in 
Brooklyn  to  inquire  if  I  had  good  news  of  General 
Pryor,  who  was  in  England,  having  been  sent  by 
Irish  Americans  to  see  what  could  be  done  for  O'Don- 
nell,  the  Irish  prisoner.  General  Grant  was  much 
interested  in  this  case.  He  found  me  at  my  late 
breakfast  of  tea,  toast,  and  a  dozen  oysters,  which 
were  divided  among  the  three  of  us.  After  break- 
fast I  brought  out  the  bullet.  He  laid  it  on  the 
palm  of  his  hand  and  looked  at  it  long  and  earnestly. 

"  See,  General,"  I  said,  "  the  bullets  are  welded 
together  so  as  to  form  a  perfect  horseshoe  —  a 
charm  to  keep  away  witches  and  evil  spirits." 

But  the  General  was  not  interested  in  amulets, 
charms,  or  evil  spirits.  After  regarding  it  silently 
for  a  moment,  he  remarked  :  — 

"  Those  are  minie  balls,  shot  from  rifles  of  equal 
caliber.  And  they  met  precisely  equidistant  to  a 


396 


Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 


hair.  This  is  very  interesting,  but  it  is  not  the  only 
one  in  the  world.  I  have  seen  one  other,  picked  up 
at  Vicksburg.  Where  was  this  found  and  when  ?  " 
he  asked,  as  he  handed  the  relic  back  to  me.  "  At 
Petersburg,  possibly." 

"  Yes,"  I  answered,  "  but  not  when  you  were  shell- 
ing the  city.  It  was 
picked  up  on  our  farm 
after  the  last  fight." 

He  looked  at  me 
with  a  humorous  twin- 
kle in  his  eye.  "  Now 
look  here,"  he  said, 
"  don't  you  go  about 
telling  people  I 
shelled  Petersburg." 
A  short  time  be- 
fore his  death,  just 
before  he  was  taken 
to  Mount  McGregor, 
he  dictated  a  note  to 
me,  sending  his  kind 
regards  to  my  Gene- 
ral, and  saying  he 
remembered  with 
pleasure  his  talk  with  me  over  a  cup  of  tea. 

But  we  must  return  (and  I  am  sure  I  am  pardoned 
for  this  disgression)  to  the  weary  life  of  enforced 
idleness  at  the  cottage. 

I  had  no  garments  to  mend  or  to  make,  no 
household  to  manage.  The  sultry  days  were 
begun  and  rounded  by  hours  of  listless  endurance, 


Met  Bullets  found  near  Fort  Gregg, 
1865. 


Yankees,  Rats,  and  Malaria  397 

followed  by  troubled  sleep.  A  bag  of  army  "  hard- 
tack "  stood  in  a  corner,  so  the  children  were  never 
hungry.  Presently  they,  too,  sat  around  us,  too 
listless  to  play  or  talk.  A  great  army  of  large, 
light  brown  Norway  rats  now  overran  the  farm. 
They  would  walk  to  the  corner  before  our  eyes 
and  help  themselves  to  the  army  ration.  We  never 
moved  a  finger  to  drive  them  away.  After  a  while 
Alick  appeared  with  an  enormous  black-and-white 
cat. 

"  Dis  is  jest  a  leetle  mo'n  I  can  stand,"  said 
Alick.  "  De  Yankees  has  stole  ev'rything,  and 
dug  up  de  whole  face  o'  the  yearth  —  and  de  Jews 
comes  all  de  time  and  pizens  de  well,  droppin' 
down  chains  an*  grapplin'-irons  to  see  ef  we  all  has 
hid  silver  —  but  I  ain'  obleedged  to  stan'  sassyness 
fum  dese  outlandish  rats." 

Alick  had  to  surrender.  The  very  first  night 
after  the  arrival  of  his  valiant  cat  there  was  a  scuffle 
in  the  room  where  the  crackers  were  kept,  a  chair 
was  overturned,  and  a  flying  cat  burst  through  the 
hall,  pursued  by  three  or  four  huge  rats.  The  cat 
took  refuge  in  a  tree,  and,  stealthily  descending  at 
an  opportune  moment,  stole  away  and  left  the  field 
to  the  enemy. 

Of  course  there  could  be  but  one  result  from 
this  life.  Malaria  had  hung  over  us  for  weeks,  and 
now  one  after  another  of  the  children  lay  down 
upon  the  "  pallets "  on  the  floor,  ill  with  fever. 
Then  1  succumbed  and  was  violently  ill.  Our  only 
nurse  was  my  dear  General ;  and  not  in  all  the 
years  when  he  never  shirked  duty,  or  lost  a  march, 


398          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

or  rode  on  his  own  horse  when  his  men  had  a  toil- 
some march  or  if  one  of  them  failed  by  the  way, 
and  never  lost  one  of  the  battles  into  which  he 
personally  led  them,  —  not  in  all  those  trying  times 
was  he  nobler,  grander,  than  in  his  long  and  lonely 
vigils  beside  his  sick  family.  And  most  nobly  did 
the  aged  negress  in  the  kitchen  stand  by  us.  My 
one  fevered  vision  was  of  an  ebony  angel ! 

After  we  recovered,  my  dear  husband  was  ill  — 
ague  and  fever  had  fastened  on  him.  When  he, 
too,  grew  better,  he  would  sit  for  days  in  hopeless 
despair,  looking  out  on  the  desolate  landscape. 

General  Hartsuff  and  his  wife  often  visited  us. 
They  were  terribly  afraid  of  fever,  and  would  send 
in  messages  from  the  gate  while  we  were  all  so  ill. 
But  after  we  had  recovered,  General  HartsufFcame 
himself — and  finally  sent  Captain  Gregory,  the 
commissary-general,  to  see  me,  and  to  reason 
seriously  with  me  about  the  necessity  of  sending 
General  Pryor  away.  He  had  never  been  pardoned. 
There  were  men  in  power  who  constantly  hinted  at 
punishment  and  retribution.  General  Pryor  would 
die  here.  He  should  go  to  New  York,  go  by  sea, 
shake  off  the  chills  that  shook  him  so  relentlessly 
every  third  day,  meet  friends  (many  Southerners 
were  in  New  York),  and  something  might  result 
for  his  benefit. 

This  idea  grew  in  our  minds  as  feasible,  if  only 
we  had  the  money.  It  had  never  occurred  to  me 
to  make  a  second  attempt  (one  had  failed)  to  sell 
my  watch.  I  now  took  it  to  a  banker  in  Peters- 
burg, added  to  it  a  cherished  antique  cameo  set  in 


General  Pry  or  goes  to  New  York        399 

diamonds  which  had  never  left  my  finger  since  it 
was  given  me,  like  Shylock's  turquoise  from  his 
Leah,  when  my  husband  "was  a  bachelor." 
Leaving  these  in  pledge,  I  received  three  hundred 
dollars.  I  bought  some  quinine  forthwith,  ordered 
a  suit  of  clothes  to  replace  the  threadbare  Confed- 
erate gray,  and  sent  Roger  A.  Pryor,  the  sometime 
"  rebel/'  to  New  York,  upon  an  experiment  of  which 
the  most  sanguine  imagination  could  not  have  fore- 
seen the  successful  result. 

A  difficult  task  lay  before  him.  Ruined  in  for- 
tune, his  occupation  gone,  his  friends  dead  or  im- 
poverished, his  health  impaired,  his  heart  broken, 
he  had  yet  to  win  support  for  a  wife  and  seven 
children,  and  that  in  a  hostile  community.  Only 
two  things  were  left  to  him  —  the  ability  to  work 
and  the  willingness  to  work.  With  what  courage 
he  commenced  the  study  of  his  profession,  what 
difficulties  he  surmounted,  what  rebuffs  he  bore 
with  fortitude,  I  can  give  here  no  adequate  idea. 
He  labored  incessantly,  often  breaking  down  and 
fainting,  at  his  task.  In  one  of  his  early  letters  he 
says,  "  Sometimes  I  sink  in  despair ;  but  then  I  rally 
and  press  on.  Don't  you  think  heaven  will  prosper 
me  for  your  sake  ?  The  obstacles  to  the  success  of 
c  a  rebel '  in  this  city  are  almost  insurmountable." 
-He  accepted  a  position  on  the  Daily  News  which 
yielded  him  twenty-five  dollars  a  week.  Mean- 
while he  must  learn  New  York  law. 

There  has  been  too  much  sorrow  already  in  this 
story.  Why  tell  of  all  the  anguish,  all  the  suffering 
of  the  next  years  ?  During  the  long,  lonely  winter 


400          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

of  1865  my  husband  nobly  strove  to  sustain  my 
hopes,  and  for  his  sake  I  would  not  allow  my  heart 
to  break. 

Early  in  February  old  Abram,  the  faithful  servant 
in  whose  care  my  husband  left  me,  announced  that 
we  had  reached  the  end  of  all  our  resources  at 
Cottage  Farm.  Rose,  the  little  cow,  had  died,  the 
turnips  and  potatoes  Abram  had  raised  were  all 
gone,  the  two  pigs  he  had  reared  had  fulfilled  their 
destiny  long  ago,  and  the  government  rations  had 
ceased.  He  "  could  scuffle  along  himself,  but  't 
wa'n't  no  use  to  pertend  "  he  could  "  take  care  of 
Mistis  an'  the  chilluns,  not  like  they  ought  to  be 
took  care  of." 

"  We  must  not  despair,  Abram/'  I  said.  "  We'll 
feed  the  children,  never  fear !  I  must  plan  some- 
thing to  help." 

"  Plannin'  ain't  no  'count,  Mistis,  less'n  you  got 
sump'n  to  work  on.  What  we  all  goin'  to  do  for 
wood?" 

"  What  you  have  done  all  along,  I  suppose." 

"No'm.  Dat's  onpossible.  We  done  burn  up 
Fort  Gregg  an'  Battery  45.  Der  ain'  no  mo'  forti- 
fications on  de  place  as  I  knows  of." 

"  Fortifications  !  "  I  exclaimed.  "  Why,  Abram  ! 
you  surely  haven't  been  burning  the  fortifications  ?  " 

"  Hit's  des  like  I  tell  you,  Mistis.  De  las'  stick's 
on  yo'  wood-pile  now." 

"Well,  Abram,"  I  said  gravely,  "if  we  have 
destroyed  our  fortifications  —  burned  our  bridges  — 
the  time  has  come  to  change  our  base.  We  will 


move  into  town." 


In  the  Garden  at  Cottage  Farm          401 

Of  course,  without  food  or  fuel,  and  without 
Abram,  we  could  not  live  in  the  country.  The 
fields  were  a  desolate  waste,  with  no  fences  to  pro- 
tect a  possible  crop  or  to  keep  cattle  within  bounds. 
Abram  saw  no  hope  from  cultivation  —  nothing  to 
"  work  on."  He  had  been  a  refugee  from  a  lower 
plantation,  and  he  was  now  inclined  to  put  out  his 
children  to  service,  and  return  in  his  old  age  to  his 
old  home  and  to  his  old  master,  who  longed  to  wel- 
come him.  He  was  a  grand  old  man.  I  doubt  not 
he  has  a  warm  place  in  the  bosom  of  that  other 
Abram,  the  faithful,  but  no  whit  more  faithful 
than  he. 

The  afternoon  before  our  departure  from  Cottage 
Farm,  the  weather  was  so  deliciously  balmy  that  I 
walked  over  the  garden  and  grounds,  thinking  of 
the  great  drama  that  had  been  enacted  on  this  spot. 
The  spring  comes  early  in  the  lower  counties  of 
Virginia.  Already  the  grass  was  springing,  and  on 
the  trees  around  the  well  which  had  so  often 
refreshed  General  Lee,  tender  young  leaves  were 
trembling.  Our  old  friends  the  tourists  now  ap- 
peared at  intervals,  taking  in  this  historic  ground  on 
their  return  from  Florida  or  South  Carolina,  where 
they  had  spent  the  winter. 

The  garden,  which  at  this  season  had  always  blos- 
somed with  early  hyacinths,  daffodils,  snowdrops, 
and  the  rosy  spikes  of  the  flowering  almond,  was 
now  a  ploughed  and  trampled  waste  of  weeds. 
Under  the  iron-clad  hoofs  of  the  cavalry  horses, 
and  the  heavy  wheels  of  the  gun-carriages,  the  life 
had  been  crushed  out  of  the  tender  bulbs.  Spring 


4<D2          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

had  come  to  touch  all  scars  with  her  gentle  finger- 
tips. Over  all  the  battle-torn  ground,  over  the  grave 
of  the  young  soldier  who  had  lain  so  long  under  my 
window,  over  the  track  ploughed  by  shot  and  shell, 
she  had  spread  a  delicate  bloom  like  a  smile  on  the 
lips  of  the  dead.  A  bit  of  color  attracted  my  at- 
tention, and  stooping  over  a  bramble-bush  I  found, 
under  its  protection,  a  single  spike  of  pink  hyacinth. 
When  I  arose  with  the  treasure  in  my  hand,  I  saw 
that  an  elderly  gentleman  had  alighted  from  his 
"  buggy "  and  was  gravely  considering  me.  He 
bared  his  head  and  introduced  himself.  "  Madame, 
I  am  a  Northern  traveller.  Will  you  give  me  that 
little  flower  as  a  souvenir  ?  " 

"  Take  it ! "  I  said ;  there  was  nothing  else  left, 
his  people  had  all  the  rest  —  and  with  effusive  bows 
and  thanks  he  stumbled  over  the  briers  and  uneven 
ground  to  secure  his  delicate  souvenir  of  a  battle- 
ground. 

Much  of  my  last  night  at  Cottage  Farm  was  spent 
at  the  window  from  which  I  had  watched  on  that 
anxious  night  of  my  first  home-coming.  The  home 
had  been  polluted,  sacked,  desecrated  —  and  yet  I 
was  leaving  it  with  regret.  Many  a  hard  battle  with 
illness,  with  want,  with  despair,  had  been  fought 
within  those  walls.  It  seemed  like  a  long  dark 
night  in  which  neither  sun  nor  moon  nor  stars  had 
appeared ;  during  which  we  had  simply  endured, 
watching  ourselves  the  while,  jealous  lest  the  natural 
rebound  of  youthful  hope  and  spirit  should  surprise 
us,  and  dishonor  those  who  had  suffered  and  bled 
and  died  for  our  sakes. 


The  Voice  in  the  Night  403 

But  now  the  night  was  gone,  the  hour  of  awaken- 
ing had  come.  There  was  work  for  me  to  do  in 
the  world ;  the  world  in  which  I  had  been  divinely 
taught  I  should  "  have  tribulation  "  with  the  com- 
mand and  promise,  "  Fear  not !  I  have  overcome 
the  world."  And  so,  as  I  sat  again  in  the  darkness, 
and  kept  my  midnight  vigil :  — 

As  of  old  when  the  fire  and  tempest  had  passed, 
And  an  earthquake  had  riven  the  rocks,  the  Word 
In  a  still  small  voice  rose  over  the  blast, 
The  voice  of  the  Lord. 

And  the  Voice  said  —  "  Take  up  your  life  again, 
Quit  yourself  manfully,  stand  in  your  lot  ; 
Let  the  Fever,  the  Famine,  the  peril,  the  pain, 
Be  all  forgot." 

That  I  might  aid  my  husband  to  mend  our  for- 
tunes, I  persuaded  seven  of  my  neighbors'  children 
to  take  music  lessons  from  me.  I  had  been  care- 
fully instructed  in  music,  having  been  taught  by  a 
pupil  of  Liszt's,  brought  over  by  the  Hon.  William 
C.  Rives  at  the  close  of  his  second  term  as  Minister 
to  the  Court  of  Louis  Philippe,  to  teach  his  own 
daughter  Amelie.  So  I  was  well  equipped  for  my 
new  duties,  upon  which,  despite  my  own  persistent 
chills  and  fevers,  I  entered  with  enthusiasm. 


CHAPTER   XXVII 


THE    FIRST    "  DECORATION    DAY  " 

IT  was  in  May  of  this  year  1866  that  we  in- 
augurated, in  Petersburg,  the  custom,  now  uni- 
versal, of  decorating  the  graves  of  those  who 
fell  in  the  Civil  War.  Our  intention  was  simply 
to  lay  a  token  of  our  gratitude  and  affection  upon 
the  graves  of  the  brave  citizens  who  fell  June  9, 
1864,  m  tne  defence  of  Petersburg,  and  upon  the 
graves  of  her  sons  who  perished  in  the  assault  upon 
Fort  Steadman.  These  were  buried  in  the  ceme- 
tery of  the  old  Blandford  Church,  then  a  roofless, 
ivy-clad  ruin.  The  church  is  one  of  the  historic 
structures  of  the  South,  and  it  has  a  literature  of  its 
own  among  Virginians.  One  of  the  most  striking 
of  the  poems  concerning  it  was  the  following,  found 
written  with  a  pencil  on  the  inner  walls  of  the  church 
many  years  ago.  The  author  is  unknown,  but 
Tyrone  Power,  the  Irish  comedian,  is  generally 
supposed  to  have  been  the  writer :  — 

"  Thou  art  crumbling  to  the  dust,  old  pile ! 

Thou  art  hastening  to  thy  fall ; 
And  'round  thee  in  thy  loneliness 

Clings  the  ivy  to  the  wall ; 
The  worshippers  are  scattered  now, 
Who  knelt  before  thy  shrine, 
404 


The  Old  Church  at  Blandford  405 

And  silence  reigns  where  anthems  rose 
In  days  of  '  auld  lang  syne. ' 

"  And  sadly  sighs  the  wandering  wind 

Where  oft  in  years  gone  by 
Prayer  rose  from  many  hearts  to  Him, 

The  Highest  of  the  High. 
The  tread  of  many  a  noiseless  foot 

That  sought  thy  aisles  is  o'er, 
And  many  a  weary  heart  that  beat 

Is  stilled  forever  more. 

**  How  doth  ambition's  hope  take  wing ! 

How  droops  the  spirit  now ! 
We  hear  the  distant  city's  din ; 

The  dead  are  mute  below. 
The  sun  that  shone  upon  their  path 

Now  gilds  their  lowly  graves, 
The  zephyr  which  once  fanned  their  brows 

The  grass  above  them  waves. 

"  Oh  !  could  we  call  the  many  back 

Who've  gathered  here  in  vain, — 
Who've  careless  roved  where  we  do  now, 

Who'll  never  meet  again ; 
How  would  our  very  hearts  be  stirred 

To  meet  the  earnest  gaze 
Of  the  lovely  and  the  beautiful  — 

The  lights  of  other  days  !  " 

When  a  sentiment  and  observance  sweeps  the 
country  we  naturally  wonder  who  began  it.  Where 
was  the  spark  kindled  that  fired  the  train  ?  Who 
was  the  "  founder "  —  that  is,  the  originator,  the 
one  from  whom  the  movement  derived  its  beginning  ? 

Memorial  associations  were  organized  in  several 
places  soon  after  the  close  of  the  war,  but  the  first 


406          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

observance  of  a  <c  Decoration  Day  "  was  an  inspira- 
tion of  Mrs.  Judge  Joynes  of  Petersburg,  Virginia. 
She  called  the  women  of  Petersburg  together  on 
the  pth  of  May,  1866,  and  organized  them  into  a 
memorial  association  for  the  express  purpose  of 
decorating  the  graves  of  the  men  who  had  fallen 
in  the  late  conflict  between  the  North  and  the  South. 
She  was  made  President  of  the  association,  and 
Mrs.  Samuel  B.  Paul,  Vice-President.  The  follow- 
ing preamble  was  offered  by  Mrs.  Joynes  and  ac- 
cepted by  the  meeting:  — 

"  Whereas,  a  mysterious  Providence  has  given  us 
a  duty  which  would,  under  other  results,  have  been  a 
nation's  pride  to  perform,  we,  the  ladies  of  Peters- 
burg, now  assume  our  share  of  the  melancholy  yet 
grateful  task  of  doing  honor  to  the  remains  of  her 
noble  sons.  All  along  our  lines,  on  distant  hill- 
tops, in  valleys,  in  forests,  lie  the  neglected  graves 
of  the  slain  of  our  people.  Absent  from  our  homes 
and  our  altars,  they  sleep  the  last  sleep  of  the  noble 
and  the  brave.  Their  bodies,  bone  of  our  bone, 
flesh  of  our  flesh,  arise,  a  spectre  band  before  us, 
demanding  Christian  and  honorable  sepulture.  Un- 
true would  we  be  to  the  instincts  of  nature,  as  well 
as  our  birthright  of  glory,  untrue  to  the  land  of 
Washington  and  of  Lee,  did  we  not  give  every 
energy  to  this  work.  Now  that  the  storms  of  war 
have  been  hushed  for  us,  and  the  paralysis  of  our 
crushed  hopes  is  yielding  to  a  healthy  activity  and 
responsibility,  we  come  together  to  devise  means  to 
perpetuate  our  gratitude  and  admiration  for  those 
who  died  for  us.  We,  therefore,  form  ourselves 


The  First  Memorial  Association          407 

into  a  society  for  the  systematic  furtherance  of 
this  object,  inviting  the  cooperation  of  all  that 
sympathize  with  us,  so  that  here,  where  the  last 
blow  was  struck,  an  enduring  monument  may 
arise  as  a  tribute  to  true  manhood  and  patriotic 
devotion. 

"We,  therefore,  propose,"  etc.  In  the  resolu- 
tions that  followed,  June  9  was  named  as  the  day 
for  "  perpetual  remembrance."  Just  what  was  to  be 
done  on  that  day  was  not  made  public.  The  Fed- 
eral Army  was  still  with  us,  and  some  apprehension 
was  felt  that  we  might  be  hindered  in  our  wishes. 
Nothing  was  yet  quite  settled  or  clearly  understood 
in  relation  to  our  future.  We  were  under  military 
rule,  and  realized  the  necessity  of  discreet  be- 
havior. Mrs.  Joynes  quietly  circulated  notes  among 
us,  requesting  us  to  meet  at  Blandford  Church  on 
the  afternoon  of  June  9,  "  to  be  sure  of  enough 
voices  for  an  anthem."  It  was  whispered  that 
"  many  flowers  were  desired."  When  the  day  came, 
everybody  rose  early,  to  cut  these  flowers  with  the 
dew  on  them  —  otherwise  they  would  perish  in  the 
hot  summer  day. 

Over  the  trellised  porch  of  the  house  I  had  occu- 
pied during  the  siege  of  Petersburg  there  was  still 
the  fine  specimen  of  the  microphilla  rose  —  a  grand 
climbing  rose  to  whose  bounty  my  little  girls  had 
been  indebted,  during  the  blockade,  for  the  only 
adornment  of  the  home-plaited  hats.  This  rose 
had,  as  we  have  seen,  already  yielded  its  tribute  to 
heroism.  Its  globes  of  snow  had  lain  upon  the 
breast  of  more  than  one  dead  soldier.  To-day  it 


408          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

gave  up  all  its  wealth  for  the  hands  of  my  little 
children  and  my  own.  The  day  was  perfect.  One 
could  but  recall  that  other  perfect  day  when  so 
many  of  the  old  men  and  boys  had  fallen  in  the 
defence  of  the  town.  The  flowering  trees,  —  chest- 
nut, locust,  and  peerless  magnolia  grandiflora  were 
again  in  blossom.  The  city  again  lay  under  a  cloud 
of  white.  In  all  the  town,  lately  one  of  the  wealthi- 
est of  the  South,  only  two  or  three  carriages  could 
be  found.  These  led  the  way,  filled  with  flowers. 
Young  girls  followed,  clad  in  white  and  bearing 
garlands  of  flowers  —  a  long  double  line.  Then 
came  every  child  from  every  school.  All  bore 
baskets  and  clusters  of  flowers.  Some  had  covered 
large  pasteboard  letters  with  white  roses,  combin- 
ing them  afterward  to  form  the  tender  words  of 
"  Brother"  or  "  Father."  The  women  and  children 
were  followed  by  a  band  playing  Beethoven's  im- 
mortal march  upon  the  death  of  a  hero.  Military 
companies  and  a  great  crowd  of  reverent  strangers 
made  up  the  rear. 

The  day  at  one  o'clock,  when  the  procession 
started,  was  intensely  hot,  and  the  distance  to  be 
traversed  along  a  dusty  road  more  than  a  mile. 
Upon  reaching  the  cemetery  of  the  old  Blandford 
Church  a  prayer  was  offered,  followed  by  orations, 
at  two  graves  —  one  filled  with  the  bones  of  men 
who  had  perished  at  Fort  Steadman,  the  other  the 
grave  of  Colonel  Scott,  who  fell  at  Richmond  during 
the  seven  days'  fight.  Then  the  women  and  chil- 
dren hastened  to  cover  with  flowers  the  great  num- 
ber of  unmarked  graves.  Many  little  white  flags 


Covering  the  Soldiers'  Graves  with  Flowers    409      / 

had  been  prepared  for  these  graves.  On  these  the 
words  "  Somebody's  darling "  was  printed.  I  re- 
member Miss  Joynes's  delicate  beauty  as  she  filled 
her  arms  with  these  little  banners  and  ran  from  one 
lonely  hillock  to  another  to  plant  them.  We  then 
gathered  together  in  the  historic  church,  roofless 
then,  and  in  a  most  picturesque  phase  of  decay. 
But  the  anthem  written  by  Mrs.  Morrison  was 
deemed  too  passionate  for  the  hour.  We  wished  to 
do  nothing  that  might  be  construed  amiss.  The 
Federal  soldiers  were  all  around  us,  looking  on  re- 
spectfully ;  so  we  raised  our  eyes  to  heaven  through 
the  old  ivy-clad  walls  and  sang  to  the  good  old 
church  tune :  — 

"  Guide  us,  O  Thou  great  Jehovah, 
Pilgrims  in  a  stricken  land." 

When  all  was  over  the  sorrowful  women  and 
children  returned  mournfully  to  their  homes.  The 
shops  of  the  city  were  closed,  the  streets  hushed. 
Thus  passed  the  first  organized  observance  of 
Decoration  Day.  It  has  been  observed  in  a  similar 
manner  on  some  selected  day  in  every  State  in  the 
Union,  but  in  Petersburg  it  will  ever  be  on  the  9th 
of  June,  her  one  saddest,  greatest  day  of  the  war, 
that  her  daughters  will  cover  with  flowers  the  graves 
of  her  martyred  sons. 

I  think  well  of  my  country  that  it  should  recog- 
nize them  as  martyrs.  We  do  well  to  pause  one 
summer  day  in  a  year  to  exalt  their  courage,  to  be- 
wail their  fate,  to  cover  their  humble  hillocks  with 
flowers.  They  died,  not  to  protect  our  land  from 


410          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

the  profane  foot  of  the  foreign  invader,  nor  yet  to 
win  the  Holy  Sepulchre  from  the  infidel,  nor  yet 
to  conquer  a  savage  wilderness  for  the  great  incom- 
ing flood  of  our  race.  They  died  because  their 
country  could  devise,  in  its  wisdom,  no  better  means 
of  settling  a  family  quarrel  than  by  slaying  her  sons 
with  the  sword. 

May  this  country  never  forget  to  observe  Memo- 
rial Day!  Even  now  there  is  scarcely  a  hamlet  in 
the  United  States  that  does  not  display  a  tiny  flag 
or  bit  of  bunting  on  Decoration  Day.  Some  years 
ago  I  drove  through  a  wild  mountain  country  in 
West  Virginia.  Deep  down  in  a  narrow  gorge  — • 
one  of  those  strange  fissures  where  a  small  stream 
has  cut  a  mountain  in  twain  —  I  discovered  a 
wretched  hut.  Fastened  to  a  pole  at  the  door  was 
a  fluttering  bit  of  red  flannel.  The  half-naked 
savages  who  lived  in  this  hut  scrambled  up  the 
precipice  to  beg.  I  asked  the  meaning  of  the  red 
rag,  and  received  the  surprised  answer,  "  Decora- 
tion Day ! "  These  untamed,  untamable  people 
respected  the  day. 

The  old  Blandford  Church  is  still  an  object  of 
interest  to  all  who  visit  the  historic  sites  around 
Petersburg.  When  the  solemn  chant  of  the  first 
Memorial,  or  Decoration  Day,  service  echoed  through 
its  mouldering  walls,  they,  with  a  remnant  of  the  roof, 
were  embedded  in  the  emerald  ivy  brought  from 
Kenilworth,  and  were  literally  vocal  with  hundreds 
of  tuneful  birds.  It  has  been  found  necessary  to 
repair  the  roof,  but  enough  ivy  remains  to  cover  it 
in  a  few  years.  Meanwhile  the  old  church  sits 


"Until  the  Day  Dawn"  411 

desolate  among  the  graves  of  her  distinguished  and 
honored  sons  —  indeed  a  Mater  Dolor osa :  — 

"  Childless  and  crownless 

In  her  voiceless  woe 

An  empty  urn  within  her  withered  hands, 
Whose  holy  dust  was  scattered  long  ago." 

And  there    she  watches   "until  the  day  dawn  and 
the  shadows  flee  away." 


CHAPTER   XXVIII 


VIRGINIA    IN    THE    EARLY    DAYS    OF    PEACE 

THE  result  of  the  war  was  to  leave  the  state 
of  Virginia  prostrate.  It  seemed  it  would 
require  generations  for  the  commonwealth 
to  recover  from  the  effects  of  the  strife  upon  her 
own  soil,  the  paralysis  of  the  merchant  and  the 
farmer,  and  the  consequent  starvation  of  the  people. 
And  yet  the  people  refused  to  repine.  They  ac- 
cepted their  lot  with  patience,  fortitude,  and  dignity. 
Whatever  they  may  have  felt,  they  forbore  to  give 
expression  to  indignation  or  to  nurse  old  grudges. 
Northern  men  who  visited  them  were  treated  with 
courtesy.  General  Ordway  of  the  Federal  Army 
records  that  "  in  Richmond  the  people  behaved 
with  becoming  reserve  and  dignity.  I  found  them 
reasonable,  courteous,  and  desirous  of  submitting  to 
or  cooperating  with  every  measure  necessary  to  good 
government.  I  rode  through  the  state  for  several 
weeks  accompanied  only  by  a  mounted  orderly,  and 
never  failed  to  receive  the  traditional  hospitality  of 
Virginia." 

In  recalling  this  time  I  cannot  remember  one 
word  of  bitterness  or  complaint.  When  women 
met  together  there  was  talk  only  of  "  ways  and 

1  « Virginia,"  by  John  Esten  Cooke,  p.  505  et  sey. 
412 


Behavior  of  the  Freedmen  413 

means,"  the  best  to  be  done  under  the  new  order  of 
things. 

In  1866  the  state  was  under  Federal  govern- 
ment. Francis  H.  Pierpont,who  had  been  Governor 
of  West  Virginia,  assumed  executive  authority.  In 
1867  Virginia  was  placed  under  military  govern- 
ment, and  in  the  winter  of  that  year  a  convention 
was  held  which  framed  a  new  constitution.  This 
was  submitted  in  1869  to  the  people,  and  was 
adopted  by  a  large  majority.  Gilbert  C.  Walker,  a 
native  of  New  York  and  a  resident  of  Virginia,  was 
elected  Governor;  United  States  Senators  were 
chosen ;  the  Fourteenth  and  Fifteenth  Amendments 
were  ratified ;  the  military  occupation,  which  had 
been  found  unnecessary,  ceased ;  and  Virginia  re- 
sumed her  place  in  the  Union. 

As  to  the  negroes,  they  gave  no  trouble.  In- 
dividual cases  of  discourteous  behavior  were  treated 
as  they  deserved,  with  compassionate  forbearance. 
"  You  will  know  better  by  and  by,"  I  said  to  a 
negro  woman  who  insisted  upon  buying  her  pins 
and  needles  before  I  was  served,  and  she  respectfully 
yielded  me  her  place  at  the  counter.  Once  when 
dear  old  Mrs.  Campbell,  the  venerated  mother  of 
Virginia's  historian,  stopped  with  me  in  a  vacant 
street  for  a  lengthy  comparison  of  household  notes, 
a  negro  policeman  sauntered  up  and  said  gruffly : 
"  You  can't  block  up  dis  street !  You  suttenly  is 
got  to  c  move  on/  '  "  And  so  we  will  —  and  so  we 
will !  "  said  the  old  lady,  laughing.  I  remember  on 
the  fourth  of  July,  1866,  my  Mary  was  ill,  nervous, 
and  distressed  by  the  firing  of  a  toy  pistol  under  her 


414          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

window.  I  found  a  young  negro  man  quietly  sit- 
ting on  the  curb  and  loading,  with  percussion  caps, 
a  small  pistol.  To  my  somewhat  heated  remon- 
strance, he  solemnly  and  without  the  least  anger  re- 
marked, "  Ah  does  ma  work,  an*  Ah  pays  ma 
taxes,  an*  Ah  has  ma  fun"  and  went  on  with  his 
percussion  caps.  I  thought  there  was  reason  in 
his  conclusion  and  only  regretted  the  work  and 
taxes  of  the  white  man  without  the  "  fun  "  ! 

The  position  of  the  newly  enfranchised  negro  was 
a  most  perplexing  one,  and  in  it  he  bore  himself 
with  wonderful  discretion.  Every  possible  influence 
was  brought  to  bear  upon  him,  to  make  him  dis- 
trust his  old  friends  and  leave  his  old  home.  Early 
in  the  war  he  had  elected  for  himself  an  attitude 
of  perfect  quiescence.  The  fight  was  a  white  man's 
fight.  "  But,"  reasoned  one  of  his  early  advisers, 
"  the  fight  is  for  your  freedom  ;  the  whole  trouble 
is  about  you."  "  That's  so  !  "  answered  an  old  man 
of  the  "  Uncle  Remus  "  type.  "  When  two  dogs 
fight,  they  commonly  fights  for  a  bone.  Is  you 
ever  see  the  bone  fight  ? "  But  after  the  conflict 
was  over  the  negro  realized  that  his  new  blessings 
brought  with  them  stern  anxieties.  Never  having 
thought  for  himself,  he  was  now  the  prey  of  the  ill- 
advised  counsels  of  his  new  friends.  Painful  things 
occurred  in  our  households.  I  never  found  my 
little  Lizzie,  who  left  me  after  the  surrender  of 
Petersburg.  One  day  I  surprised  my  husband's 
gentle  mother  in  tears,  because  of  the  condition  of  a 
small  servant  who  had  returned  to  her  after  wander- 
ing through  the  country,  and  who  was  now  smitten 


Clara's  Home-coming  and  Death          415 

with  fever.  My  sister  had  reared  a  superb  young 
woman,  Clara,  whom  we  all  loved  and  respected. 
She  too  disappeared,  to  be  mourned  by  the  entire 
family.  Six  months  after  she  left,  my  brother  was 
aroused  late  at  night  by  a  violent  ringing  at  the 
door.  His  wife  entreated  him  not  to  open  the 
door,  for  these  sudden  alarms  were  to  be  dreaded ; 
but  he  said,  "I  must — I  cannot  help  thinking 
Clara  may  return."  When  the  door  was  opened  in 
the  midnight  darkness,  a  small  trunk  was  hastily 
thrust  in  by  an  unseen  hand,  and  Clara  fell  across 
the  threshold.  She  never  spoke  again  !  Next  day 
she  died,  and  in  her  slender  stock  of  clothing  there 
was  no  word,  no  clew,  to  solve  the  mystery  of  her 
death. 

As  early  as  1865  Congress  directed  that  an 
amendment  to  the  Constitution  should  be  submitted 
to  all  the  states,  prescribing  that  "  neither  slavery 
nor  involuntary  servitude  "  should  thenceforth  exist 
in  the  United  States.  I  don't  know  how  this 
amendment  was  received  by  other  states.  Virginia 
adopted  it  at  once,  and  the  new-made  citizen  took 
his  place  there  as  a  constituent  part  of  the  Ameri- 
can people.  "  Every  barrier  between  the  races  was 
levelled  to  the  ground  as  far  as  the  action  of  the 
Federal  government  could  effect  it.  The  Africans 
were  now  the  political  equals  of  all  other  Americans. 
They  were  competent  to  vote,  to  preside  on  the 
bench,  to  command  in  the  army,  to  represent 
the  country  at  foreign  courts,  to  sit  in  the  Senate, 
and  to  officiate  as  governors  of  states,  and  as  Presi- 
dents of  the  United  States.  It  is  not  surprising 


4i 6          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

that  President  Lincoln,  walking  through  the  streets 
of  Richmond  after  the  surrender,  should  have  gazed 
with  'a  pathetic  wonder*  on  the  African  crowd 
around  him.  By  his  act  they  had  become  citizens, 
and  it  is  possible  that  he  wondered  at  the  probable 
result."  1 

Far  different  has  been  the  treatment,  by  this 
country,  of  our  only  original  native  Americans  — 
the  North  American  Indians ! 

The  story  of  "  reconstruction,"  and  of  the  pangs 
and  throes  through  which  Virginia  worked  out  her 
salvation,  has  been  told  by  an  abler  pen  than  mine. 
Nor  can  I  follow  further  the  fortunes  of  our  own 
family,  of  our  struggle  for  existence  in  a  new  home, 
of  our  final  reward.  This  will  be  a  story  for  another 
book.  Eighteen  months  after  my  husband  left  me 
I  had  the  following  letter  from  him :  — 

"  Don't  imagine  I  have  the  least  idea  of  abandoning  my 
experiment  here.  I  mean  c  to  fight  it  out  on  this  line,' 
to  the  end  of  the  struggle.  My  practice  increases  slowly, 
but  is  based,  I  believe,  on  a  conviction  of  my  competency. 
Thank  God,  what  I  have  accomplished,  though  small,  has 
been  achieved  by  my  own  unaided  exertions  and  without 
the  least  obligation  to  a  human  being.  I  have  no  patron. 
I  have  never  solicited  business.  My  only  arts  are  study 
and  devotion  to  duty.  These  expedients  may  be  slow  of 
operation  but  they  are  sure,  and  they  leave  my  dignity  and 
self-respect  uncompromised.  I  am  not  conscious  of  having 
received  a  favor  since  my  residence  in  New  York:  and 
when  the  victory  is  achieved,  I  shall  have  inexpressible 

1  "Virginia,"  by  John  Esten  Cooke,  pp.  507-508. 


The  Welcome  to  the  New  Home        417 

satisfaction  in  saying,  with  Coriolanus  — c  alone  I  did  it ! ' 
When  I  speak  of  c  favors/  I  mean  in  the  way  of  my 
profession.  Of  some  personal  kindness  I  have  been  the 
grateful  recipient,  —  though  not  in  many  instances." 

Within  two  years  I  followed  him  with  our  chil- 
dren;  and  if  I  cannot  say  with  Mr.  Burke,  "my 
adopted  and  my  dearer"  home,  yet  so  warm  and 
abounding  was  the  welcome  accorded  us  that  we 
are  attached  to  it  by  the  strongest  ties  of  gratitude 
and  affection. 

The  last  time  I  visited  Petersburg  I  drove  out  to 
her  battle-fields.  Nature  had  hidden  the  scars  with 
beauty.  The  seeds  of  the  daisy  had  been  scattered 
wherever  the  Federal  forces  had  been  encamped,  and 
they  had  whitened  the  fields  and  covered  the  graves 
by  the  wayside.  Nature  had  not  forgotten  these 
lonely  unmarked  graves,  nor  will  she  ever  forget, 
until  time  shall  be  no  more. 

It  is  not  easy  to  write  about  the  dreadful  war  be- 
tween the  North  and  the  South.  We  press  our 
breasts  against  a  thorn  when  we  recall  the  anguish 
of  those  days  of  death  and  disaster.  It  is  often  said 
that  it  is  still  too  early  to  write  the  story  of  our  Civil 
War.  It  will  soon  be  too  late.  Some  of  us  still 
live  who  saw  those  days.  We  should  not  shrink 
from  recording  what  we  know  to  be  true.  Thus 
only  will  a  full  history  of  American  courage  and 
fidelity  be  preserved,  —  for  all  were  Americans. 
The  glory  of  one  is  the  glory  of  all  —  in  1861  when 
brothers  were  in  conflict,  as  well  as  in  1898  when 

2E 


4i  8          Reminiscences  of  Peace  and  War 

they  stood  shoulder  to  shoulder  and  heart  to  heart 
against  a  foreign  foe.  Circumstances  do  not  rule  the 
heart,  and  cc  where  the  heart  is  right,  there  is  true 
patriotism." 


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THE  MOTHER  OF  WASHINGTON  AND  HER 
TIMES,    by  Mrs.  Roger  A  Pryor. 

The  brilliant  social  life  of  the  time  passes  before 
the  reader,  packed  full  of  curious  and  delightful  in- 
formation. More  kinds  of  interest  enter  into  it  than 
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SHAKESPEARE'S  ENGLAND,  by  William  Winter 

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land of  fact,  as  the  England  created  and  hallowed 
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THEODORE  ROOSEVELT  THE  CITIZEN,  by 
Jacob  A   Riis. 

Should  be  read  by  every  man  and  boy  in  America. 
Because  it  sets  forth  an  ideal  of  American  Citizen- 
ship. An  Inspired  Biography  by  one  who  knows 
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PARABLES   OF  LIFE 

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to  Mr,  Mabie' s  finest  and  strongest  work. — HENRY  VAN 
DYKE. 

WILLIAM  SHAKESPEARE 

Poet,  Dramatist,  Man 

Professor  F,  H.  Stoddard  speaks  ot  this  work  as 
"  almost  unique  in  Shakespeare  literature,  in  it  that  is  a 
continuous  and  thoroughly  worked  out  study  of  the  whole 
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A  BOOK  OF  OLD  ENGLISH  LOVE  SONGS 

Edited  by  Hamilton  Mabie.  Superbly  illustrated  with 
Drawings  and  Decorations  by  George  Wharton  Edwards. 

One  of  the  daintiest  specimens  of  bookmaking,  designed  to  serve 
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Edited  by  Hamilton  Mabie.  Superbly  illustrated  with 
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It  is  a  consummate  statement  of  the  highest  conception 
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serene  satisfaction  with  God's  method  of  moral  gove/n- 
ment  breathes  from  every  page  and  makes  the  teacher 
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"  The  Quest  of  Happiness  "  is  Dr.  Hillis'  very  best 
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— AMORY  H.  BRADFORD,  Pastor  of  the  First  Congrega- 
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I  find  "The  Quest  of  Happiness"  a  very  rich  and 
beautiful  work.  It  is  eminently  a  book  for  the  home. — 
PHILIP  S.  MOXON,  Pastor  of  South  Congregational 
Church,  Springfield,  Mass. 

HAPPINESS 

Essays    on    the    Meaning  of  Life.     By  CARL   HILTY. 

Translated  by   Francis   Greenwood   Peabody,    Pro- 
fessor   of  Christian    Morals,    Harvard  University, 
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Great  numbers  of  thoughtful  people  are  just  now  much 
perplexed  to  know  what  to  make  of  the  facts  of  life,  and 
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This  volume  aims  to  present  in  a  popular  and  non- 
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ROMAN    AND    MEDIAEVAL  ART.     By  W.   H. 
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The  epochs  treated  in  this  work,  those  of  the   Romans 
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period.      One  hundred  and  ninety-six  reproductions  illus- 
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A  HISTORY  OF  GREEK  ART.       With  an  Intro- 
ductory Chapter  on  Art  in  Egypt  and  Mesopotamia. 
By  PROF.    T.    B.    TARBELL,    of  the   University   of 
Chicago.      Profusely  illustrated.      I  zmo,  cloth. 
This  book  has  been  written  in  the  conviction   that   the 
greatest  of  all  motives  for  studying  art,  the  motive  which 
is  and  ought  to  be  the  strongest  in   most   people,   is   the 
desire   to   become   acquainted   with   beautiful  and   noble 
things,  the   things    that   «'  soothe  the  cares   and   lift  the 
thoughts  of  man."      Illustrated   with  one  hundred  and 
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GROSSET  &  DUNLAP  EDITIONS 
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Mingles  the  romance  of  the  forest  with  the  romance  of 
man's  heart,  making  a  story  that  is  big  and  elemental,  while 
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life  of  the  lumbermen  of  the  great  forest  of  the  Northwest, 
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THE  SILENT  PLACES 

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Still,  frost-bound  forest. 

THE  CLAIM  JUMPERS 

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THE  WESTERNERS 

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THE  MAGIC  FOREST:     A  Modern  Fairy  Story. 

"  No  better  book  could  be  put  in  a  young  boy's  hands," 
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GARDEN  MAKING,  by  PROFESSOR  L.  H.  BAILEY, 
Professor  of  Horticulture,  Cornell  University. 
Suggestions    for    the    Utilizing    of    Home 
Grounds.       12  mo.,  cloth,   250  illustrations. 
Here  is  a  book  literally  "  for  the  million  "  who  in  broad 
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"  little  place  "  in  the  country.      Written  by  the  Professor  of 
Horticulture  at  Cornell  University  it  tells  of  ornamental  gar- 
dening of  any  range,  treats  of  fruits  and  vegetables  for  home 
use,  and  cannot  fail  to  instruct,  inspire  and  educate  the  reader. 

THE  PRACTICAL  GARDEN  BOOK,    by  C.  E. 
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vegetables,  or  ornamental  bushes  and  trees.  Arranged  alpha- 
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making  of  lawns,  borders,  hot-beds,  window  gardening,  lists  of 
plants  for  particular  purposes,  etc. 

A   WOMAN'S    HARDY    GARDEN,    by   HELENA 
RUTHERFURD  ELY.      With  forty-nine  illustra- 
tions from  photographs  taken  in  the  author's 
garden  by  Prof.  C.  F.  Chandler.    1 2  mo. ,  cloth. 
A  superbly  illustrated  volume,  appealing  especially  to  the 
many  men  and  women  whose  love  of  flowers  and  all  things 
green  is  a  passion  so  strong  that  it  often  seems  to  be  a  sort  of 
primal  instinct,  coming  down  through  generation  after  genera- 
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and  keep  it."     The  instructions  as  to  planting,  maintenance, 
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THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  SANTA  CRUZ 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  DATE  stamped  below. 


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